Fractured Light
by MissSnakeyBoots
Summary: Twenty year-old Harry finds himself in a good job with a new-found smoking habit, a Labrador that likes breakfast and a work friend with an unsavoury fascination with women. Harry's friends worry about his emotional stability and on times - sexuality. Enter Draco Malfoy in Muggle clothes with his camera and Harry's life is thrown into disarray. What HAS his old nemesis been up to?
1. One

I went fishing for a big fat golden fish and I caught a jellyfish instead. The jellyfish is cool, but some of its legs are missing and it's a little bit ugly. The jellyfish is a rather spot on analogy for this story.

Prompts included several old ideas, a pot noodle, the Queen's Jubilee and my friend's ridiculously large and adorable dog. The outcome somehow represents something entirely different from any of these, but stay with me on this one, I promise I haven't failed completely.

Lyrics written below and at the beginning of some chapters are not mine, they are Twin Shadow's. Golden Light acted as a sort of backing track to the story, and I'd recommend listening to it as the lyrics seem to fit the message I was trying to get across.

All other lyrics are the sole work of The Beatles and their affiliates. They are not mine. Most of the characters and ideas in this story are J.K. Rowling's.

Be aware this fic mentions smoking, mild drug use and non consenting and underage sex. I apologise for any errors - I checked through several times but there might still be one or two.**  
**

I would like to thank HARRYPOTTERlovesDRACOMALFOY for correcting my mistakes and waiting patiently to do so and to demusforever who listened to me rattle on about my ideas. Love you both !

I want to dedicate this story to Parsley: for keeping me company, meowing at me when I was trying to write, sprawling on the laptop and just being there to dribble over me when I had Writer's Block. I'll love you forever. R.I.P.

_MissSnakeyBoots**  
**_

* * *

Some people say there's a golden light  
You're the golden light  
And if I chase after you  
Doesn't mean that it's true  
Some people say there's a golden light  
If I'm the golden light  
If you chase after me  
Doesn't mean you can see

_Twin Shadow - Golden Light**  
**_

* * *

**ONE**

It was five to five on a Thursday by Harry's watch and he had very nearly lost the will to live. At the desk next to his, Nathaniel chuckled at the pages of his Muggle magazine. "What?" Harry said shortly, knowing if he didn't ask now, Nathaniel would only continue snickering to himself until he did.

"Look at that Potter," Nathaniel jeered, holding up his magazine and gesturing to a picture of a familiar, scantily clad pop star. Harry had seen her before many times in Nathaniel's magazines, on the t-shirts of young Muggles and on TV at home. In Harry's opinion, it wasn't so much her singing that bought her fame, but her lack of inhibition when it came to taking her clothes off or talking about her sex-life.

"Yeah?" Harry replied, waiting for the sordid comment that was sure to follow whilst rummaging through the pockets of his jacket for his packet of cigarettes.

"She says there's nothing she hasn't or won't try..." Nathaniel paused for effect. "In the bedroom." Harry nodded.

"How nice of her to share that with us."

Nathaniel made an appreciative noise as though he really did think so and continued leering at the article, his feet up on the desk before him. He had black hair like Harry's that he wore slicked back with lashings of jell that should have been too much, though it always looked right. He was tall and always impeccably clean-shaven, often making Harry feel a little bit scruffy with his ever-present day old stubble he never seemed able to catch up with. Sometimes Harry wondered if he should be jelling his hair instead of leaving it falling all over his forehead in the hopes it would conceal his now-faint scar and therefore his identity.

A seagull flew past the window in their office and Harry wished – not for the first time – that their view was something other than a square of sky and the top of a distant crane. He could hardly complain however: Ron's office didn't even have a window. He also shared with three other Wizards and a plump Witch who brought sugared doughnuts into work every day. Unsurprisingly, Ron had put on something in the region of half a stone since working in the Ministry.

Thinking fondly of Ron, Harry remembered he was meant to be wishing him farewell out the back at five. "Nathaniel, I'm going out for a smoke." Harry sighed, standing up and taking his jacket. He tucked a cigarette behind his ear as Nathaniel grunted in response, still absorbed in the antics of promiscuous pop stars. Harry wandered through the door to their office that was kept open by an ugly snowman doorstop from unknown origins.

It wasn't like Harry had always been a pencil pusher in a dingy office. Sometimes he was out in the field, but more often or not that was just training, or removing a drunken Warlock from a public place. Someone somewhere had paired him up with Nathaniel: a wizard of twenty eight with far more experience than Harry at twenty, but apparently they had every faith in his abilities. Crime rates had reached an all time low and Harry had found himself pushing papers all day, completing reports and reading instructions that made little or no sense to him. Some days he'd pull a Nathaniel and bring a (clean, most often Quidditch) magazine into work and spend the day poring over it. If Nathaniel hadn't been fired after shirking off every day for three years then he could get away with it once or twice.

When Harry got to the concrete yard where smokers, traders and slackers gathered, he found Ron leaning against the brick wall, holding his mobile phone upside down and squinting at the screen.

"Other way." Harry said to him, taking the cigarette from behind his ear and putting it in his mouth.

"Right. Yeah." Ron laughed, turning it the right way again. "I think I have a texted post message from Hermione." Harry dug around for the box of matches he kept in the back pocket of his trousers and peered over Ron's shoulder at the screen. Hermione had bought the mobile a month ago to try and keep Ron in contact with both her and Harry - not to mention Ginny who'd branched out into the Muggle world as well. So far however, Ron had had less luck with it than someone's ancient great-grandfather might.

"Press that." Harry said, pointing to the main button on the handset. Ron did so, his tongue sticking out as he concentrated. Harry took a drag from his cigarette and watched two tradesmen levitate a crate of Aunt Nora's Finest Pumpkin Pasties through the back door.

"Listen to this!" Ron snorted, looking at the screen of his phone. "_I want you to double-check all of your packing because I know you'll have forgotten something important, probably your SUN HAT,_" he read in the voice he reserved for imitating Hermione. Harry smiled and blew a smoke ring into the air, watching it rise up into the overcast sky above him. Ron took a breath and continued reading. "_I don't want you to have to waste money out there. The price of living is extortionate and you'll never get the deposit for a flat if you squander all your galleons._" Harry smiled fondly, grateful he wasn't travelling with his best friends on this particular adventure. Not for all the gold in Gringotts would he sit between a bickering Ron and Hermione on a transatlantic flight to Australia. "A week." Ron cried. "That's all we're going for!"

"Where would we be without Hermione, eh?" Harry sighed wistfully, taking another drag on his cigarette.

"A lot happier, that's where." Ron muttered, pocketing his phone. "And stop this-" he snatched the cigarette from Harry's mouth and threw it on the floor, crushing it with the heel of his shoe. "-or I'll tell her that you lied about quitting." Harry frowned, looking longingly at the rest of his cigarette laying ground into the concrete. There was no need to ask who 'her' was. Hermione had almost torn his throat out when he'd first taken out a cigarette in front of her. She'd watched in horror as he'd put it in his mouth and lit it, before tearing it from him and beginning a two-hour lecture about Harry's health and emotionally vulnerable state. Ron continued his rant as Harry contemplated getting another one out. "A sun hat I ask you! I'm not buying a sun hat! What does she take me for? I'll look like a right idiot!"

"You'll freckle."

"Like I'm a stranger to that." came the muttered response. Harry checked his watch again; the one Mrs Weasley had bought him four years ago, and found it was quarter past five, very nearly home time. Tomorrow was his last day in work before his well deserved week off, and with very mild weather forecast, he planned to enjoy it thoroughly. He had of course, been invited to fly out to Australia with Hermione and Ron to visit her parents, who – even after having their memories reinstated – had decided to live out there for good. Harry had politely declined. Hermione had accused him of shrinking into his shell and Ron had begged him to come along and ease the company that was Hermione's. ("Well thank you very much Ronald - I am in the room you know!) Rather than oblige, Harry had said he was having Teddy over on Friday so he'd just have to stay at home. This had been a measly excuse, but Hermione had simply shaken her head in exasperation and continued alphabetizing the books on Harry's bookcase. Ron had pretended to weep behind her, much to Harry's amusement. "Well I'm done here." Ron sighed, picking up his tattered briefcase and tucking his mobile phone in the pocket of his coat. "I have to go home and re-pack everything for tomorrow or 'Mione will have a fit."

"Have a nice time!" Harry grinned as Ron turned to leave with his briefcase and a Daily Prophet tucked under his arm. Quite out of nowhere, a photo in the paper caught Harry's eye and he held his hand out to stop the other boy leaving. "Wait," he said quickly, taking the paper and unfolding it.

"Keep it mate, I've got to run!" Ron called. Harry waved absently, staring down at the moving picture that had seized his attention. It was part of a small article about property prices in traditional Wizarding villages. The picture was of Godric's Hollow, captured in a way that made Harry hold his breath.

The focus of the picture was the statue of his parents and himself as a baby, taken from the ground so blades of grass that were swaying in the breeze partially covered the lens. It was as though the photographer had been lying on the ground when they took it. The sun poured onto the scene, bathing the memorial in a warm light as a young Wizarding couple walked idly past, hand in hand. Harry continued to ogle the picture as he ambled back into the Ministry.

He had only seen Godric's Hollow in the winter, and in circumstances that left him with little time to admire it. Wondering absently what it was like at this time of the year - in June, Harry waited for the lift up to his floor. It opened with a ping and several paper aeroplanes whizzed out over the head of someone who bumped into Harry as he walked forward into the lift without looking. "Sorry." Harry said inattentively, his nose picking up a smell vaguely familiar to him. He tore his eyes from the picture and looked around him, but the person he'd walked into seemed to have joined the crowd of Ministry officials flooding out of the building and heading home.

_Oh well_, Harry thought, they can't have been that bothered about his carelessness. The smell lingered in his nostrils a moment longer and dispersed almost immediately, taking Harry back to Godric's Hollow and wondering what the air smelt like there, right now.  
It was three years since Harry had left The Battle of Hogwarts behind him. He had taken on a job as an Auror when the Ministry hadn't cared about the necessary NEWT requirements. A good thing too when Harry hadn't even turned up at Hogwarts for his seventh year. Ron had gotten in as well, but had pursued a career in Interrogation, envisioning himself as a 'bad cop' type. This meant he was swamped with piles of reports and tests that left him in a cramped office with several other juniors. Harry, preferring the hands on approach and being very readily taken on by his superiors, had worked hard and trained well, resulting in his promotion working with Nathaniel, who was nearly thirty and better at his job than Harry would ever have envisioned.

His job was something he had dubious feelings about, though he wouldn't have dared voice this to Ron, who'd consider him ungrateful or Hermione, who'd worry for his emotional stability - something she seemed to be doing a great deal of recently.

When Harry got back to his office, Nathaniel had already donned his coat and stowed his magazine safely into his satchel. Of late, Harry had noticed Nathaniel looking less like a carefree bachelor and more like he'd just stepped out of a fashionable Muggle catalogue. Harry suspected it was his new girlfriend dressing him. Harry also believed Nathaniel cutting down his men's magazine habit by a whole half was due to his new girlfriend too.

"Someone came looking for you." Nathaniel said as he pushed stacks of unfinished assignments into his drawer.

"Who?" Harry asked, throwing the Prophet on his desk and stuffing reports into his briefcase.

"Some arty type, he looked vaguely familiar." Nathaniel replied, heading for the door. "I think he was a journalist."

"Merlin." Harry muttered. "That's just what I need."

"Cheer up Potter. It's a uniform job tomorrow!" Nathaniel called, loping out of their office and down the hallway.

A uniform job was a good thing. It meant he'd be on call with Nathaniel to tend to small matters of crime occurring up and down the country. Although Harry never knew what to expect when he Apparated or stepped into the flames of the Floo network, it was always far more interesting than sitting around in his office.

Harry got home late after deciding to take the train. He could easily have Flooed or Apparated like many Wizards did, but the comforting clickety-clack of the train on the line made him appreciate the whole 'going home' event. Lifting his spirits a little more when he arrived home was the ecstatic greeting Charlie the chocolate Labrador gave him and the thought that tomorrow he'd be heading out into the wide world to do some good.

Harry dumped his briefcase in the hallway and kicked off his shoes. Charlie – as he usually did – thought this was some sort of game and picked a shoe up in his mouth, galloping into the bedroom. The light flashed on his answering phone and Harry pressed play as he hung his jacket on the coat rack and tripped out of his work trousers.

"Charlie! Bring that back!" he shouted.

"Hi Harry its Me." said Ginny's voice. Harry's stomach twisted into several uncomfortable knots. He hadn't spoken to Ginny in months. "I wanted to know if we could meet up and talk about what happened. Ron told me you have a week off so let me know when you're ready okay?"

She left her number as Harry stood in the hallway, his trousers around his ankles. Merlin, she wanted to talk. Charlie skidded back into the hallway without the shoe and jumped up at Harry as though he'd forgotten he'd already greeted him.

"She wants to talk." Harry whined, rubbing Charlie's silky brown ears. Charlie whined back, probably not in sympathy, but Harry felt comforted all the same. Harry realised he would rather talk to his own dog than his ambiguous girlfriend and decided maybe he should just meet Ginny and explain to her that he'd had a momentary prolapse of emotions and he didn't know what was wrong with him. It wasn't something he wanted to think about let alone explain, but maybe Hermione was right and he needed to start facing up to his emotional last time he'd seen Ginny he'd had his t-shirt on back to front as he'd tripped out of her bedroom in The Burrow at dawn.

It had been hard, after the Battle, or the war, or 'back then' as Harry called it, to try and assemble his feelings. He'd told Ginny he was going to get a job and a flat and watch this space; everything was going to be fine. Ginny had raised her eyebrows but told him she'd wait, throwing herself into helping rebuild Hogwarts and her Quidditch career as she did so.

Every now and then they'd meet up at The Burrow for someone's birthday or a Christmas party and Ginny would smile at him playfully, look up from under her lashes and ask if he'd assembled his life yet. Harry would laugh too loudly and sometimes wind a lock of her red hair around his finger as he told her about how well he was doing, though never saying he felt ready to be with her. Then he'd drink too much Eggnog or Fire Whiskey and crash his lips against hers under the mistletoe or in the twilight of the overgrown garden.

Once or twice Harry had invited her back to his flat and they'd fallen into his bed, Harry remembering very little of what happened the next day as he was always plastered, barely able to unhook her bra and slur how much he loved her. She'd bring him breakfast in the morning and tell him to get a hold of himself before leaving him alone with a hangover and a heavy heart.

It was New Years Eve when he really screwed up. He hadn't drunk anything all night because he'd been on call for the next two days. Ginny had gone sober with him as she'd had a big match coming up, and they'd both laughed at Ron trying to ballroom dance with Hermione, crossing his eyes with effort. "He looks like he can't understand why he's tripping over his feet." Ginny had giggled, taking Ron's seventh Butterbeer and Brandy concoction from him. Harry had kissed her when the clock struck midnight and hugged the entire entourage of guests one by one.

Later on they had all dispersed merrily, Flooing home or sprawling on the sofas with their lopsided party hats. Ginny had taken his hand and led him up to her room where a full moon washed over them both, bathing them in its silvery hue. She told him about her approaching Quidditch match and talked tactics with him, reminiscing times Oliver Wood had them practice in all weathers. Harry had laughed and remembered with her, running his hand through her hair and watching her lips speak to him.

They had talked until dawn, when the house had fallen silent and a marmalade sun had risen on the horizon. Harry had blinked drowsily in its glow, marvelling at the pastel colours of the sky. He'd shaken Ginny awake to see it as she lay dozing on his chest and they'd watched it for a while as Harry listened to their breathing, trying to synchronise his with Ginny's. Then she had turned to him, looking into his eyes before kissing him softly.

As they sought out each other's skin, it had struck Harry it was the first time he'd done this sober, and he felt every touch and saw every detail, sharp and alive before him. It was intense. It was vivid. He had stilled, breathing heavily and looking down into Ginny's eyes. She had frowned. "Harry?"

_Yes,_ he'd thought, _I'm here. I'm here with you and we're together. I can feel this. _She was so beautiful; it made Harry's heart sink.

And that was it. He loved her too much.

She was his family and Harry could not sleep with her. She was part of the only loving kinship he'd ever known and he couldn't do it. He had tripped out of her bed, tangled in the sheets, horror thrumming through his veins, and he'd pulled on the clothes she'd stripped from him. "Oh my God, Ginny," he had breathed, dizzy with the revelation and the shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She had pulled the sheets around her bare skin like a shroud and her expression had turned steely. "I know it's not Me." she'd said in a grievous whisper. Harry had turned away, feeling the sting in the words as he pushed his feet into his trainers and fled from the room.

He had made it all the way downstairs when he'd bumped into Hermione in the kitchen, where she was sipping a mug of something hot and staring out of the window at the same sleepy sky. She'd given him one look and shaken her head knowingly. "Oh Harry," she'd sighed. Harry had ducked his head and left, staggering down the garden path in his haste, clearing the rusted gate and turning on the spot, vanishing in the dawn and Apparating in the hallway of his flat. Then he'd locked himself in the bathroom and howled unashamedly at his own instability as Charlie scratched at the door, howling back.

That afternoon there had been a knock at the front door. Harry had been buried beneath the duvet in his bed, sleeping fitfully. He had waited for the caller to leave but they'd opened the letterbox and shouted through, sending Charlie into convulsions of exhilaration. "Harry!" Ron had called. Harry had been so pleased to hear a friend's voice he hadn't stopped to think, and had dragged himself from his bed to open the door. The breath had been knocked out of him as Ron shoved him backwards, throwing his jacket at him. "You left that back at ours." Ron had snarled. "You know, when you ran out this morning?"

"Ron-"

"Why did you run out Harry?" Ron was advancing on him, his eyes flashing furiously. He must have had a terrible hangover, his eyes were dark and circled and his hair was plastered to his forehead. Charlie ran nervous laps up and down the hallway, whimpering hysterically. Harry held his hands up.

"Ginny's like a sister to me Ron I couldn't-" Ron's fist lashed out at Harry's jaw and Harry had just enough time to bring his arms up to his face and shield himself. "A sister?" Ron cried, scandalised. "You don't kiss a sister like that every time you see her! You don't go to bed with your sister!"

"I didn't Ron! That's why I left!"Ron had shoved him again.

"But you have slept with her!" he'd spat "I've been ignoring it because I thought I could trust you!"

"You can!"

"Listen to me!" Ron had roared, sending Charlie to cower under the bed and making Harry wince. "She's _my_ sister Harry." he'd growled. "Don't you _ever_ do this to her again." He'd slammed out of the flat and left Harry feeling like something someone had trodden in. They hadn't spoken for a week and Ron had even gone as far as to ignore him when they passed one another in work. Eventually Hermione had stepped in and sat them down at the table in her parent's old house.

"Harry's having a nervous breakdown Ron,"

"I am not!" _A nervous breakdown?_

"Harry, you're not...coping...as well as we thought you would." Harry had very nearly stormed out until Ron had spoken.

"He's coping fine." he'd grumbled and Hermione had blinked in surprise. "As long as he leaves my sister alone I don't care."

Harry remembered the weight on his shoulders had lifted slightly and he had breathed a sigh of relief. "I never meant to treat her like that Ron. I really care about her." Hermione had nodded feverishly. "Ron." she'd prompted.

"I know." he'd sighed. "Sorry for losing it Harry mate. I know you'd never do it on purpose." Harry had given him a watery smile and shaken his hand while Hermione clapped her own hands together, blowing the hair out of her face in relief.

"Well I'm glad that's sorted! I hate it when you two argue!" For a moment, Harry had considered asking her how she thought he felt listening to her and Ron bicker constantly, but he had decided against starting any more conflicts. All had been well after that. Up until now that is, when Ginny had declared she wanted to talk.

It was a no-win situation: if he didn't talk to her, he'd be a coward, if he did; Ron might tear his head off with his bare hands. Harry couldn't decide which prospect he'd rather face. Instead, he rang up Andromeda to ask what time Teddy was coming over tomorrow. Teddy himself answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello Teddy, is Grandma about?"

"I don't know." Teddy said softly. "I'm doing a picture of Charlie for you Harry."

"That's lovely. Will you bring it tomorrow?"

"Yes." Teddy hummed quietly to himself and Harry waited. A special kind of patience was needed when he spoke to Teddy. He was exceptionally bright and responsible for a three-year old, but he lived in his own world and seemed to think adult care was wholly necessary.

"Do you think you could find Grandma for me Teddy?" Teddy made a thoughtful noise.

"The phone's stuck on a string, Harry." Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"It's a cord. Just put the phone down on the table and find Grandma."

"No thank you." Harry had to laugh. Fortunately for him, Andromeda was never far away and Harry heard her crooning in amusement at Teddy in the background.

"Who's that Teddy? Your Godfather?"

"Yes. He's being very bossy." Andromeda chuckled and Harry frowned as he heard her take the phone.

"Hello Harry."

"Hi. I was just wondering what time Teddy was coming over tomorrow?"

"Shall we say half past four? I know you finish early on a Friday."

"That's fine. Tell him to bring the picture of Charlie he's working on – and tell him I said please, just in case he thinks I'm being bossy."

"I will. You wait until you see his hair Harry; you'll have such a fright." Harry grinned.

"I look forward to it."

Having inherited Tonks' uncanny ability to distort his appearance, Teddy was often sporting strange hairstyles in various shades and styles. It was something that never failed to amuse Harry and regularly looked forward to seeing what he'd come up with next. Charlie barked at Harry from the kitchen and he made his excuses to Andromeda, realising it was tea time and Charlie especially couldn't stand tardiness at tea time.

~X~

Harry went to bed that night with a niggling feeling he couldn't quite place. That smell today was familiar, but it was out of place in the Ministry. Where had he smelt it before? Warm but sharp_, _he thought_,_ like cedar spice burning in the embers of a fire_._ The memory crept towards him as he drifted into a doze, visions of the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts plaguing him. The rain on his skin, making him feel alive, the fury coursing through him and the smell, sharp in his nostrils as he threw punches on the skin again and again before anyone could stop him.

Harry fell asleep wondering what Draco Malfoy had been doing in the Ministry Of Magic today.


	2. Two

**TWO**

"I'll be back in a few hours Charlie," Harry cooed to the large pile of chocolate Labrador that was sat on his foot. Charlie whined, blinking up at Harry with miserable eyes, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Harry sighed and put the record player on, letting The Beatles serenade Charlie while he was out. Less than pleased about this arrangement, Charlie bounded up to the living room window and pressed his nose against the glass, watching Harry make his way down the street below in his smart Auror uniform.

When Harry got to work he found Nathaniel in his own uniform, writing urgently at his desk. This was such a rare sight, Harry paused in the doorway to take the scene in. "Is that work you're doing Nathaniel?"

"Shit Harry," Nathaniel breathed, continuing to scribble way, dipping his quill in the ink with such vigour he blotched his parchment. "Kingsley just came up; told me it was shaping up to be a lively sort of day, so we're going to be busy."

"Good." Harry replied, tossing his briefcase on his desk and taking his mobile phone out of his pocket to check it. Nathaniel groaned.

"No Potter! He also said he wanted all our assignments in!" Hermione had sent Harry a text telling him to be good, use sun cream, talk to Ginny and try and get back to his old self again. Harry put his phone back in his pocket and sighed, watching Nathaniel wrestle with several different reports at once.

"You're going to have to do it lunchtime mate," Harry said. "I'll bring you a sandwich."

"They're right about you Potter," Nathaniel grinned, leaping up from his desk.

"What?"

Nathaniel smirked at him, gesturing for him to follow."You're a saviour."

~X~

The uniforms had been introduced after the war to make Aurors seem more united and threatening. To a Muggle, they looked like an ordinary outfit so as not to draw attention, but to magical folk, they were supposed to radiate authority.

Harry and Nathaniel took the Floo Network to Knockturn Alley where they'd been sent to investigate a suspicious stall owner. Even on a warm spring day, it was shadowy and skin prickling, just as Harry had remembered it being when he'd been there at twelve. The stall owner had set up on the doorstep of a boarded-up shop, and he licked his teeth uneasily when he saw Nathaniel and Harry approach in their uniforms. It was a reaction Harry always appreciated, as most of the time he felt absurd dressed so officially "What you selling, my friend?" Nathaniel asked, eyeing the wicker baskets set out on the table.

"Why?" The man spat. "You buying?" He was bald and middle aged, wearing a shabby coat with rags wrapped around his hands. He narrowed his eyes at Harry, probably recognising him. It was undoubtedly Harry's pet hate to be recognised on the job. People either asked for his autograph as he wrestled them to the floor or spat hate-filled abuse at him for stopping The Dark Lord rid the world of its filth. This man, however, remained silent.

"Mind if we take a look?" Harry asked, gesturing to the wicker basket. The man screwed up his face thoughtfully before nodding, his hands on his hips. Harry lifted the lid from the basket and saw five Cornish Pixies, docile and slumbering at the bottom of the basket. "Who buys these?"The man grunted.

"People looking for a little energy boost. They boil 'em in a pan and eat 'em hot."

"Who the hell eats pixies?" Nathaniel snorted.

Harry shook his head, knowing there probably were magical folk out there who believed in these kinds of absurd remedies. "You don't have a license do you?" he sighed.

"What do you think?" the man retorted. Nathaniel took out his notebook and quill.

"Right." he began. "One seizure of five-"

"Thirteen." the man added, gesturing to two other baskets.

"-_thirteen_ Cornish Pixies and a written warning." Nathaniel tore off the parchment and presented it to the man as Harry picked up two of the wicker baskets to take them to The Ministry. Nathaniel lifted the last one, striding after Harry as they headed back to their fireplace in the Apothecary next door.

"Good luck dealing with 'em when the ale wears off!" the man called bitterly. "They've eaten half of me hands!" Harry hoped the ale wouldn't wear off before he could get them to the Misuse of Magical Creatures Department. He'd much rather keep his hands thanks.

"Nuts!" Nathaniel hissed as soon as they had reappeared in the marble Fireplace at The Ministry. "Eating pixies! Aren't they poisonous?" Harry shrugged, quickening his pace when he heard a wicked giggle emanate from one of his baskets. They strode through the atrium, getting occasional awestruck stares from visitors, envious glances from office workers and flirtatious smiles from Witches. One in particular, with glasses and chocolate coloured hair swept into a bun who often wished Harry Good Morning, waggled her fingers and giggled. Once she'd left him a cupcake on his desk signed 'love Gloria'. It had worried Harry all morning and he'd ended up feeding it to Ron. "Get in there!" Nathaniel murmured as she sauntered past them, smiling at Harry.

"Morning Mr. Potter." she simpered. Nathaniel snorted and waggled his eyebrows.

"Mr. Potter, eh?"

"I don't like it." Harry frowned. "It reminds me of being in school."

"She could call me whatever she wanted." Nathaniel leered, walking backwards so he could watch her departing backside. Harry rolled his eyes as they dropped the pixies off at the Magical Creature Misuse Department. A rookie with acne peered into one of the baskets and slammed it shut again, calling for his supervisor in an unsteady voice. "I'm going to run up and try and finish my work," Nathaniel called, jogging towards the lift.

Harry waved him away and took the opportunity to take a cigarette break. He scrubbed at his hair and went and sat in the Slacker's Yard out back. The air was mild and the sky was blue as Harry blew smoke into it today. He could take Charlie and Teddy out later. Last time, Teddy had waded into mud after the dog and Harry had been spelling it out of his carpets for weeks afterwards. He hadn't minded, Teddy's resemblance to a swamp monster and his delight at the amount of Weasley's Whistling Bath Bubbles Harry had let him have in his bath had made it all worthwhile.

Dragging at his cigarette, Harry wished Ron was with him to retell the goings on in his own office. Only last year they'd held snail races on their desks and Ron had won a galleon. Harry tried to imagine what Nathaniel would say if he suggested such a thing. The only thing Nathaniel was willing to bet on was a passing Witches cup size, to which they had no way of discovering without ending up with a slapped face and a dismissal for sexual harassment. Quite often, Harry felt he would willingly trade his good job, windowed office and Nathaniel to be a part of the frivolity in Ron's neck of the woods. "There you are Harry," said a deep, slow voice.

"Kingsley!" Harry gasped, surprised to see him out here. He was The Minister of Magic now after all. Kingsley stared down at him in his purple robes, his expression somewhat amused. Harry threw his cigarette on the ground and laughed sheepishly.

"Waste of a good smoke." Kingsley smiled, nodding at the smouldering remains. "Though I can't encourage it Harry, Aurors need to be healthy."

Harry nodded. "I know. I'll quit - I promise." Kingsley nodded slowly, almost as though he really believed him.

"In the meantime, a fight has broken out in Paddington Station and the mention of magic has been detected. Could you and Nathaniel do something about it?" Harry nodded feverishly, coughing a smoker's cough in his haste. Kingsley smiled. "I've already spoken to Nathaniel. He's waiting in the main hall."

The fight - by the time Harry and Nathaniel arrived on the scene - had become more of a shouting match. Paddington Station's Muggle security had already turfed the scrappers outside onto the pavement and they were making quite a racket. A man a few years older than Harry with a beard and shoulder-length, sandy coloured hair twisted into dreadlocks was being shoved repeatedly by a furious foreign man with a juvenile, but handsome face and a thick, familiar accent. A girl with electric-pink hair and more piercings than Harry thought possible was trying to break up the row. "I would kill you right here! If I had my wand I would kill you!" the foreign man roared, trying to get a hold of the bearded man. Harry wagered that despite his babyish features, he was probably three or four years older than Harry.

"Ed!" the girl screeched. "That's not fair! Calm down!" Harry exchanged a glance with Nathaniel before they advanced towards the brawl. Nathaniel pushed the enraged foreign man against the wall with his forearm and told him, very firmly, to calm down. Harry approached the other man and the girl.

"What's happening here?" he asked them, eyeing them both cautiously.

"Our friend," the girl said breathlessly. "He gets like this. He'll be okay in a minute." Harry glanced at the man with dreadlocks who rolled his eyes and nodded. The girl took another deep breath. "Pleased to meet you Harry Potter." she smiled.

"You're definitely Wizards then?" Harry asked, knowing a Muggle wouldn't know him from the next spectacled twenty year-old.

"Ed is," she replied, nodding at the foreign man who was ranting wildly to Nathaniel. "So is my sister and his parents," she added, gesturing to the man with the dreadlocks.

"Squib." he said quietly, pointing at his own chest. The background din had suddenly fallen silent and they all looked over at Ed, the foreigner, who was blinking at Harry, his mouth shut. "You don't remember me Harry Potter?" he asked. Harry shook his head slowly. He didn't think he did. "My friend lost out to you in the Triwizard Tournament...The night The Dark Lord rose again."

He was from Durmstrung! Harry recognised him now. He was one of the many faces that had wandered the castle during his Fourth Year. He had been a bit of a joker, laughing raucously in the corridors and latching onto Malfoy - of all people. He had even spoken to Harry in The Yule Ball when he'd come over to tell a joke to Krum who had been talking to himself, Ron and Hermione at the time. "_What did the big candle say to the little candle?"_ he had grinned after striding over to the group. Ron and Harry had ignored him, far too concerned with their sulking._"I'm going out tonight!"_

"I remember you." Harry said, noticing the thuggish scar on the side of his head.

"I'm Edvard Kovachev and don't you forget it." he said darkly, before his face lit up with a dazzling smile.

"Right...Edvard," Nathaniel began. "Do you think you could refrain from fighting in public?"

Edvard nodded earnestly. "Of course. My mistake. My apologies." He advanced on the man with dreadlocks and threw his arms around him. "All is forgiven Steven, yes?" Steve grunted in response and the girl breathed a sigh of relief.

"All sorted!" she cried, tucking strands of pink hair behind her pierced ears and reminding Harry of a more eccentric Hermione. Harry nodded, watching Edvard as he chatted away happily to the man called Steven, who stood frowning at the floor.

"You sure everything's fine?" Nathaniel murmured. The girl nodded furiously.

"Absolutely. Sorry to trouble you!"

"Okay. Behave yourselves." Nathaniel called as the trio hurried away, ushered by the girl with pink hair who scolded Edvard furiously.

~X~

Harry was strongly tempted to go for another cigarette break when they got back to The Ministry, but remembering his promise to Kingsley, he got into the lift with Nathaniel and headed back to their office. Nathaniel loosened his collar and sighed wearily. "Fancy a pint tonight?" he asked, resting his head against the wall of the lift as it flew backwards, then up again. "Nancy's taking me shopping. She thinks I need to start wearing hats." Harry held onto the handles suspended from the ceiling as he wasn't gifted with the obscure cat-like balance Nathaniel had when travelling in the Ministry lifts.

"Can't sorry. My Godson's coming over."

"Cute."

"Yeah."

Back at their office, Nathaniel reluctantly threw himself into completing a term's worth of incomplete reports while Harry procrastinated at his desk, drawing owls on his parchment and rolling himself cigarette after cigarette that he wasn't supposed to be smoking. He jammed them all in the box and rubbed his face in exasperation. He'd only gotten into the habit when Nathaniel had offered him one after they'd had several pints. He hadn't been able to separate the social activity from the habit however, and since then he'd have anything up to ten a day, which - for an Auror – wasn't well-advised.

It wasn't even lunchtime and Harry had nothing to do but stare out of the open doorway of his office, watching people passing in the corridor outside. There was Grimsby, a fierce thirty something Auror who brought Dark Wizards in with broken bones because according to him,_ they'd given him attitude. _He passed the doorway with a stack of parchments, his face twisted aggressively. Harry thought he harboured most of his hostility in the greying handlebar moustache beneath his crooked nose. A few minutes later Wendy - who reminded Harry of a more extroverted Luna walked by, singing merrily to herself. Harry heard the lift ping and waited for the swarm of people that would surely pass his doorway on their way to Kingsley's office.

Jefford, one of Ron's desk buddies whose laugh sounded like a dying elephant, shuffled past; then a Witch with a strawberry-blond perm chatting to Yarns from the canteen who loved to discuss the weather and only ever the weather. A seven foot warlock followed them, narrowly avoiding treading on Layla, the office flirt who Nathaniel had lusted after for years. Then Malfoy, an arrogant brat with unnaturally blond hair -

_Malfoy?_

Harry lifted his head from his hand and sat rapt with attention at his desk. He can't have seen right - though hadn't he smelled the git yesterday? Before Harry could doubt his eyesight any further, Draco Malfoy walked backwards in front of the doorway, with a wicked grin on his face as he disappeared out of sight again. Harry rubbed his eyes with his hand and when he took it away, Malfoy had edged slowly around the doorway like a blond puppet, smirking at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

His shockingly pale hair fell jell-free into his eyes and he was dressed in what looked suspiciously like a denim shirt and very dark, skinny jeans. On his shoulders was a scruffy green, canvas rucksack with several material badges sewn onto it. He gestured for Harry to join him, out in the hallway. Harry stood up and crossed the room, standing face to face with a pseudo-Malfoy (he was sure) in the corridor. "What. The hell." said Harry, looking him up and down.

"I thought you might be taken aback." Malfoy muttered in response. Harry watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously.

"You were here yesterday weren't you?" Harry hissed. Malfoy shook his head vigorously, raising his eyebrows with a clueless expression as though he didn't know what on earth Harry was talking about. "Yes you were." Harry persisted. "I walked into you when you were getting out of the lift." Harry dipped his head forward and sniffed the air Malfoy was standing in. Sure enough, it smelt like cedar spice in the fire and several other things that took Harry back to fights on the Quidditch pitch and too-close toxic disputes in school corridors. "I smelled you." he hissed.

"You've gone daft Potter. I don't know what you're talking about." Malfoy replied with a nervous huff of laughter.

"Shut up Malfoy! You've been lurking around The Ministry! What are you doing, eh? Trying to reinstate a bit of Malfoy power? No one's going to respect you looking like a teenager." Malfoy raised a fine eyebrow and looked disdainfully down his nose at Harry. Grinning in excitement, Harry ducked his head into his office. "Nathaniel? You know that arty type that came looking for me yesterday?" Nathaniel grunted in response, still scribbling away furiously. "Blond hair, Muggle clothes and a face like he's chewing a wasp, yeah?"

"Sounds about right." Nathaniel replied.

"..._chewing a wasp_?" Malfoy repeated, his cheeks flushing pink.

"I knew it." Harry smirked, turning back to face him. What the hell he was doing looking for Harry was the real mystery. Besides, he'd once heard the girls in the office say never to trust people who wear denim on denim – no matter how good it looks. "What do you want?" he demanded in a low voice he hoped sounded threatening.

Malfoy took a deep breath and he dug around in his pocket for a scrap of paper which he clenched in his fist. "Fine. I was here. Only because I have a favour -"

"Favour?"

"I mean...I'll pay you for your services."

"I don't want your money." Harry bit. "And what services?"

Malfoy blushed again. "I work in the media. For The Prophet." Harry snorted. Malfoy hurried on, flustered and uncomfortable. "I'm a photographer," He mimed taking a photo with his hands. "They want me to go back to Hogwarts on Monday." Harry waited, watching a bead of sweat make its way down Draco's neck. "They want pictures on how it's been rebuilt. Featuring Potter." he muttered. Harry laughed raucously as Malfoy's face twisted into a scowl. "You don't see me laughing at you in your silly uniform do you?" Malfoy snapped. "I want this job Potter. I've been working exceptionally hard for three years to get here."

"You spent the first year in Azkaban." Harry retorted.

"Like I said," Malfoy growled. "I've been working hard." Harry bit a hangnail on the corner of his thumb, trying to look bored. "So why do I come into this?"

Malfoy sighed, averting his eyes and tapping his foot - which resided in a Converse trainer much like the kind Harry had at home. "They want pictures of golden boy and the castle and happy faces."

"That's a good one, Malfoy." Harry chuckled, folding his arms. Malfoy's face contorted into a scowl.

"I wasn't joking dick head."

"Right." Harry snapped. "You're a rude bastard and absolutely off your head so-"

"Potter, I didn't mean that!"

Harry marched back into his office. "- I'll thank you to excuse me-"

"Potter!" Malfoy hissed and Harry gestured rudely to him as he sat back at his desk, crumpling the packet of cigarettes in his hand.

"Bugger off!" he hissed. Malfoy gritted his teeth in the doorway and edged into the room, watching Harry for a minute before gingerly placing the crumpled piece of parchment on Harry's desk. Harry ignored him, staring down at his cigarette packet and waiting for Malfoy to leave. When he did, sidling from the room in silence, Harry lifted his head and growled low in his throat.

"Must be crazy to be you, Potter." Nathaniel remarked.

"Don't call me Potter."

~X~

It wasn't until much later, not long before lunch and just as Harry had finished clearing his desk that he found the Prophet. It was resting under his briefcase, the picture of Godric's Hollow, sparkling in its article. Harry took it up and watched the grass move in the breeze for a while. _I could stick it on my wall_, he thought, setting about tearing the picture from the paper. Then it caught his eye. There, beneath the image was a tiny footnote: **Photograph courtesy of D. Malfoy.  
**

Well there was only one D. Malfoy working as a photographer for The Prophet that Harry knew of. Harry looked at the picture again, expecting it to transform into a rotting tomb filled with writhing snakes. It remained, however, quite as provocative as before. "That little shit." Harry seethed. Nathaniel politely ignored him.

Scrabbling for the parchment at the edge of his desk, Harry debated his options. He could go to Hogwarts on Monday and say he was doing it for the school not the boy with the camera. Harry considered just pocketing the picture and pretending Malfoy was still in Azkaban or something. Despite this, he was just far too intrigued in a Draco Malfoy that wore Muggle clothes and took professional photographs of his birthplace. Harry dialled the number Draco had left on the parchment before he could stop himself. "Malfoy?"

"I'm listening Potter."

"What are you doing for lunch?"


	3. Three

**THREE**

Harry strutted into the café, ordered two sandwiches and a glass of water before sitting opposite Malfoy at his table and glaring at him. "Speak."

"I'm not a dog Potter." Malfoy bit and Harry cracked his knuckles under the table. "You're looking very smart, by the way." Malfoy began.

"Cut the crap Malfoy."

"Fine. Whatever. You actually look stupid." Harry made a mental note to check his reflection when he got home, just in case he did. Malfoy rapped his finger on the wooden table, eyeing the other customers apprehensively before he swivelled his gaze back to Harry. "What made you change your mind?"

Digging in the pocket of his trousers, Harry pulled out the picture of Godric's Hollow and slid it across the table. "You took this?"

"Yes detective." Malfoy smirked, his hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at the image. "I had some funny looks for lying in the grass." Harry swallowed, suddenly set on edge. "I've got more..." Malfoy began, sensing Harry's interest and picking his rucksack off the floor. He dug around inside, pulling out a black, leather-bound case and unzipping it. "Here." he said, snatching a handful of pictures and handing them to Harry. Harry took – or rather – snatched them from the pale hand, looking down at them hungrily. There was a row of Godric's Hollow cottages in autumn: the colours ranging from burnt umber to vibrant orange. Then a picture of a clearing in the spring: petals of white blossom fluttering in the breeze. The churchyard in winter: a blanket of crisp, white snow resting on the gravestones... "Potter? You all right?"

Harry's eyes snapped upwards, leaving behind the memories of war. "All the seasons..."

"I liked it there, so I went back - all year round." Malfoy replied coolly. Harry spread the pictures out on the table to admire them further, the hum of the coffee shop drifting away as he imagined himself there. "Lunch, Potter." Malfoy said quietly in the distance and Harry looked up, surprised when the waitress placed his food and a paper bag in front of him.

"What's in there?" Malfoy inquired.

"My friend's lunch." Harry replied, thinking of Nathaniel scribbling frantically in their office and taking a sip of his water. Eyeing Malfoy shrewdly, it suddenly occurred to him how he and Malfoy seemed to be bombarding each other with questions, and wasn't that what they'd always done? Tried to interfere in each other's business?

Malfoy took the photographs from him and frowned, faltering under Harry's stare. "I went travelling," he began. "A little while after Azkaban." Harry took a bite from his sandwich, feigning nonchalance. "All over the country. I took a lot of photographs with this," Malfoy lifted an old fashioned Muggle camera from his bag, handling it fondly. "Developed them with magic and offered them to The Prophet."

"They took that one?" Harry said, gesturing to his cutting of the memorial. Malfoy snorted malevolently.

"Only because it had a tribute to Saint Potter in it." he sneered. "That's what the readers like to see Post-War. Personally, I think times are changing and people have seen enough of your face."

"So then you became a journalist?" Harry asked, ignoring Malfoy's jibe and stuffing the crusts of his sandwich into his mouth. Wrinkling his nose, Malfoy spoke:

"Please refrain from talking with your mouth full, Potter – and I did not become a journalist. I asked for my own article and the editor laughed me out of the office."

"Who'd give you an article?" Harry scorned, draining his water.

"Not a Muggle-born editor, that's who. She seemed to think I intended to fill it with Anti-Muggle, Pro-Voldemort propaganda."

"And you didn't?" Harry replied, trying his best to sound surprised, though he was quite taken aback that Malfoy had said his name, not_ 'The Dark Lord'._

"Shut up. Why would I want to do that?" Malfoy snapped. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't answer that. I bloody well didn't and I refused to leave until he gave me what I wanted."

"And he gave you a chance."

"Yes, but that doesn't matter now." Malfoy retorted crisply. "I need you on Monday for their happy-smiley article."

"Does it have to be me?"

"Who else Potter? Longbottom?"

Harry frowned, feeling a stirring for his old friend. "He killed Voldemort's snake."

"And you killed Voldemort. Longbottom will be there no doubt, but I'm quite sure the dim-witted readers would rather see all four of your eyes on their front page."

"Doesn't your boss know we're worst enemies?" Harry asked, only half joking. Malfoy widened his eyes dramatically.

"Oh please. I thought we'd moved on from that nonsense." Harry's own eyes narrowed.

"I don't know Malfoy, last time we saw each other you wanted me dead."

"No I didn't." Malfoy snapped. "And I don't want to talk about that." He toyed with the straps of his rucksack before shoving it to the floor again, sighing impatiently. "Look," Malfoy began stiffly. "I'm not begging you, but if I go back to that office and tell them you refused they'll be delighted that I've presented them with an excuse to fire me."

Harry thought about going back to Hogwarts and felt his chest constricting. He hadn't been there for two years and the last time had been a disaster. "I don't want to, Malfoy." Mafoy pressed his lips together in a tight line, before picking up his rucksack and standing up. "Where are you going?"

"This was a stupid idea. Forget I said anything."

Harry watched Malfoy sidestep through the café and head towards the door. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Malfoy!" he shouted before he could stop himself. The boy turned to look at him, his fingers on the door handle. "I'll call you."

For a moment, Malfoy looked bewildered. Then a plump woman poked him in the ribs with her umbrella and told him to stop blocking public walkways. He disappeared through the door and Harry saw him walk past the window with a smile on his face, his rucksack bouncing on his shoulders.

~X~

Harry got home by four after stopping at the supermarket to buy cigarettes in case of any more sudden surprises, and the cakes Teddy was so fond of. He changed into jeans and a t shirt and sang to Charlie, who didn't seem to mind the fact that he couldn't sing a note in tune. At half past four exactly, there was a knock at the door and Harry opened it to see Andromeda and Teddy on his doorstep. Teddy had a bobble hat pulled over his head and tears were streaming down his face. "Hey!" Harry cried softly, stooping down to look into Teddy's honey-coloured eyes. "What's all this?"

"We appear to be having a bad day today." Andromeda whispered from above.

Unlike most children his age, Teddy's 'bad days' did not consist of frightful tantrums and constant grizzling. He often spent the day in a deep, internal state of emotion, being moved to tears by the slightest upset. Charlie nosed his way past Harry and sniffed at his tiny companion, his tail wagging.

"I've bought your favourite cakes." Harry coaxed him. Teddy sniffed, rubbing his face with his sleeve.

"With rainbow sprinkles?" Harry nodded. Charlie did a little hop.

"I think an early night should do the trick." Andromeda sighed, watching Teddy wander down the hallway of Harry's flat with his hand on Charlie's silky back.

"Don't worry about it. See you tomorrow, yeah?" Harry replied, running his hand through his hair.

Andromeda nodded, scrutinizing Harry through her heavy-lidded eyes. They frequently reminded him of Bellatrix, though these eyes were far softer.

"You're a wonderful Godfather, Harry." Andromeda said quite suddenly. "Did I ever tell you that?" Harry felt his cheeks burning red.

"Uh-"

"Don't forget to enjoy yourself this week though won't you? I'm sure Nymphadora and Remus would want to see you having fun."_Don't forget to enjoy himself_? Harry had a vibrant, dynamic, active life, thank you very much. Before he could retort with this statement, Andromeda had wandered down the steps and vanished.

"Harry! I spy cakes!" Teddy called from the kitchen.

~X~

Teddy's hair, it turned out, resembled that of a leopard's. The nature programme he'd watched on Harry's TV last time he'd visited had obviously left a lasting impression on him. Harry pulled the bobble hat tightly over his head before they went out with Charlie. Last time Teddy had been in public without headgear, his hair had exploded from a safe sandy colour to a vibrant green and a woman had swung her handbag at Harry, declaring him a disgusting parent-of-today, much to Teddy's amusement.

Teddy remained quiet and reflective throughout the walk, occasionally asking Harry questions about the people he saw or why Charlie went to the toilet in public. Later, Harry heated him turkey dinosaurs and entered a long explanation about how the turkey dinosaurs could be both dinosaurs and turkey.

"Harry," Teddy said after he finally grasped the concept that he was eating turkey in the shape of dinosaurs (or dinosaur-shaped turkey).

"Yes?"

"When people die, do they go into dinosaur shapes?"  
"Absolutely not." Harry replied, immediately thinking of a turkey dinosaur Voldemort. Teddy took a sip from his cup of juice, his eyes suddenly doleful.

"My parents died." Harry found it difficult to swallow his mouthful of food and his skin prickled uncomfortably hot. He reached for the cold glass of water before him and took a swig from it, his head dizzy.

"Yeah...yeah they did. You know what that means don't you?" Harry asked hoarsely. The last thing Teddy needed was to think his parents had become edible dinosaur shapes. Teddy thought for a moment, picking up a chip like a wand and waving it experimentally. "They're not here." he replied.

"They are."

"No they're not!" Teddy cried in confusion, tears threatening. Harry got up, his hands clammy, and crossed the kitchen to Teddy's side of the table.

"They're in here Teddy." he said, squatting down and resting his hand over Teddy's heart. "I promise." Teddy looked at him with wide eyes.

"I ate them?" Merlin on a bike, Harry wasn't cut out for this.

"In your heart Teddy. They keep you safe. They love you."

Opening his mouth slightly as though struggling with the idea, Teddy blinked. "Where- where are your parents Harry?" Harry put his hand over his own heart and for the first time, vowed to never let Teddy feel unloved or alone.

~X~

That night, the stars were clear in the inky sky as Teddy lay asleep in his bed beneath the patchwork quilt Mrs. Weasley had sewn for him. Harry stood on the balcony outside his room with Charlie and parts of Sirius' old motorbike that he kept there. He inhaled deeply from the cigarette in his mouth, not caring about promises to Kingsley or even Hermione. He wondered how her and Ron were getting along on their flight to Australia. Probably bickering, he reasoned, blowing smoke and watching it curl into the darkness.

It had been one of those days, Harry thought, which drained him of all his strength. He'd confiscated thirteen pixies, broken up a fight, agreed to help Malfoy with his career and answered Teddy's first questions about Remus and Tonks. "What a day." Harry whispered. Charlie wagged his tail. He stubbed his cigarette out and threw it in the empty plant pot on his balcony before heading inside. Resting on his bed was his wallet, phone and the newspaper picture that was now crumpled from being carried around. Harry tossed his wallet and phone on the bedside table and took his wand from his pocket, sticking the picture to the wall next to his bed.

It sat next to pictures of his parents and The Order of The Phoenix, old and new. Teddy's painted picture of Charlie was also stuck there: another new addition. A photograph of Teddy himself was next to it, his hair alternating between pink and purple as he smiled at the camera. Hagrid was there with a baby Hippogriff; Hermione, Ron and he at Hermione's birthday, all of them squashed on a sofa with rosy smiles. A picture of Ginny and himself caught his eye: they'd been flying at the Burrow and Mr. Weasley had called them down to take a photograph. Ginny's cheeks were pink and her broom was thrown over her shoulder. Harry panted, out of breath because of his new-found smoking habit. They were both laughing.

Chewing on the inside of his cheeks, Harry debated calling her. Putting it off almost immediately, Harry's gaze drifted back to the picture of Godric's Hollow as he watched the couple walk hand in hand past the memorial of his parents and him. Harry thought of Malfoy, laying in the grass to capture the scene. Had he really agreed to help him today? He'd have to go back to Hogwarts...

Last time Harry had gone back was with Ginny. She'd taken him there on a blustery day and Harry had barely made it inside the Entrance Hall before he'd ran out again, his vision spinning with images of bodies and flames. "I had no idea Harry." she had whispered, kneeling beside him with her hand on his back.

"Me neither." He'd spat, furious and ashamed. Surely now, with the castle rebuilt and the war three years behind him, he'd be fine? It had only been a moment of terror so soon after the battle. Hogwarts had been the only home he'd known all those years and there was _no way_ he was going to fear it. Harry picked up his phone and dialled Malfoy's number. It rang for a while before he answered, sounding groggy.

"Malfoy I'll do it! I'm -"

"Potter."

"Yeah?"

"Go and find your watch, there's a good boy." Malfoy sighed. Perplexed, Harry brought his wristwatch up to his face and squinted at the face. _Quarter to two_, it read.

"Oh shit! Sorry!"

"Yes." There was silence for a while as Harry wondered why he hadn't thought to check the time. "You are awake now though, aren't you?"

"Well yes I bloody am _now_." came the bristly response.

"Good. I'll be there. Monday."

"Excellent." Malfoy sighed. "As long as you don't change your mind again." Harry was affronted.

"Maybe I don't want to help you after all." he snapped.

"See what I mean?" Draco yawned. "Think about it and get back to me. Preferably in the day." Draco hung up, leaving Harry feeling foolish.

Harry got into bed in a bad mood, eventually falling asleep and dreaming of Ginny, Malfoy and a giant packet of cigarettes. In the early hours of the morning when the birds outside had started to sing, Harry awoke to find himself sandwiched between a fat Labrador and a tiny ball of pyjamas and stripy socks. He sighed, smoothing hair that was now as black as his own and fur that was like silky chocolate before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.


	4. Four

**FOUR**

"Teddy," Harry sighed tersely the next morning. "Please don't do that." Teddy - who'd been pushing cornflakes into Charlie's mouth – stopped, his hair fading to white as he did so.

"Charlie wants breakfast." he said forlornly,

"Dogs don't eat breakfast."

"Charlie does." This, Harry couldn't fault. Given the chance, Charlie _would_ eat breakfast. He'd also eat lunch, dinner, dessert, supper and any snack thrown in.

"Charlie's on a diet." Harry retorted. This was true. Last time Hermione had come over she'd pointed out how fat he was getting and warned Harry to stop giving him biscuits when no one was around.

"I don't give him biscuits." Harry had snorted.

"Nonsense." she'd replied. "Every time I go near the biscuit tin he jumps a foot in the air with excitement." She'd lifted the tin's lid to demonstrate, nodding triumphantly when Charlie came skidding into the room at the sound.

"Well don't goad him, Hermione." Harry had muttered.

Teddy spent the rest of the morning watching antique programmes on TV with Harry, occasionally asking Harry what _bargain_ and _auction_ meant. Charlie spun in circles on the carpet, leaving the room now and then to return with one of Harry's shoes, much to Teddy's amusement.

"Come on Teddy. Get dressed." Harry said for the fifth time later that morning as Teddy buried himself under the cushions of the sofa, asking Harry to read Muggle fairy tales to him.

"No thank you Harry."

"Saying no thank you doesn't make it okay not to do as you're told." Harry tutted, trying to pull the wriggling ball of pyjamas from the cushions as it clung fast like a limpet. The phone rang and Harry was forced to leave his Godson singing softly to himself under the upholstery.

"Harry?" said Ginny's voice when he picked up the phone. Shit. He'd completely forgotten.

"Ginny..."

"Thanks for returning my call." she said, her voice frosty.

"I'm so sorry. I've been really busy and Teddy's over-"

"We need to talk." Harry closed his eyes and held back a groan. Ginny sighed. "Are you busy today?"

"Um..."

"If you're going to make an excuse then I'll put the phone down now and put an end to all of this."

"No, I'm not busy."

"Come to The Burrow today? Mum and Dad are out." Harry couldn't help thinking the invitation seemed quite sordid.

"To talk?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes of course." she snapped.

"All right. I'll see you after lunch."

"See you then." Harry put the phone down and groaned loudly.

"Are you poorly Harry?" Teddy asked from the living room.

"I'm fine Teddy. It's grown up stuff."

It came as no surprise to Harry when he felt himself sink into a bad mood. He decided to visit the shops for milk and cigarettes he wasn't supposed to be smoking. Teddy refused to use his legs and Harry carried him, frowning as they walked down the street. "Grumpy." said Teddy, prodding Harry's furrowed brow.

"I'm not grumpy."

"You're a grumpy old man."

"I'm twenty years-old."

Teddy gasped and wriggled in excitement. "I can count to twenty!"

By the time Harry had gotten to the shops, Teddy was on 'two-een', requesting a carton of apple juice and asking what was for lunch. "He's very blond isn't he?" the women behind the till gasped, squinting at Teddy's white hair as he pulled his hat off and rubbed tiredly at his head in the heat. "Almost white!"

"Yep." Harry replied, pulling the bobble hat back over his head and hurrying from the shop.

Later, Harry sat at the table with Teddy while he ate sandwiches, thinking of Malfoy's cheek the night before. He wasn't going to help that bastard. He took his phone from his pocket and dialled Malfoy's number. "Eat your crusts." Harry said to Teddy as the phone rang. Malfoy picked up, sounding amused.

"Morning Potter."

"Afternoon actually." Harry snapped.

"Cleverly observed. Have you settled your conflicting emotions?"

"Yes – I mean no. I'm not doing it. I'm not helping you – I've changed my mind."

"Don't be stupid, I'll meet you today and we'll talk."

"No. I'm busy." Harry retorted. Malfoy sighed tersely.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm...mowing the lawns."

Malfoy scoffed. "Mowing the lawns. Right."

"Good luck anyway.-"

"Potter! Don't you hang up-"

"Bye." Harry hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"Who was that?" Teddy asked, throwing his crusts on the floor for Charlie.

"Another grumpy old man."

~X~

After Harry had procrastinated as much as he could, he Apparated with Teddy to The Burrow, appearing outside their front gate. "George?" Teddy asked hopefully.

"We'll see if he's in."

George was indeed in, he answered the door and gasped in mock surprise at the sight of Teddy. "Hair as white as snow! Harry, is this someone's grandfather?" Teddy wriggled out of Harry's arms and leapt at George like a monkey.

"No. I'm Teddy!" he cried, his hair becoming Weasley-red.

"A long lost member of the family!" George replied, smiling at Harry and gesturing to the kitchen where Ginny was stood chopping vegetables. Harry smiled back, his heart twisting sadly as it always did whenever he saw George. Most of his sentences hung unfinished in mid-air waiting for Fred to complete them, and though his grin was still bright, his eyes were empty and often flitting, as though looking for his twin in the corners of the room.

Ginny didn't turn around when Harry approached; she continued peeling a carrot, looking out at the chickens as she did so. Harry stood behind her and cleared his throat. Turning casually, Ginny looked at Harry with her eyebrows raised and Harry felt his cheeks burn instantly red. "I should think so." said Ginny. Harry laughed nervously. "It's not really funny though is it?" she added.

"No." Harry mumbled, leaning his back against the sink and staring at the tiled floor.

"An explanation would be nice." Harry sighed, looking up at her face. She was as pretty as ever, her hair flowing down her back in a cascade of red.

"Ginny...you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Ever!" She snorted, chopping the carrot she'd just peeled forcibly. Harry winced. "I don't know what's wrong with me." Harry groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "I just can't commit..." Ginny put her knife down and turned to look Harry in the eye.

"Are you gay?"

"What? No!"

"Right." she breathed. "I didn't know. I thought maybe that's why you ran out when we were... you know..."

"No! We've done it loads of times!" Harry hissed.

"When you were drunk!"

"Not that drunk!" Harry retorted defiantly as Ginny scoffed.

"Half the time you fell asleep before we finished!" Harry turned away, embarrassed. God. Had he really been that bad?

"Ginny..." he began."You're like a sister to me-"

"Oh cut the crap Harry." she spat. "Every girl you know is going to be like a sister to you." Harry blinked, suddenly offended.

"What are you trying to say?" he demanded. Ginny dried her hands on a tea towel, looking away from him.

"I mean it." she said defiantly. "You're either gay or harbouring a load of emotional issues." Folding his arms, Harry laughed scornfully. Emotional Issues! Why did everyone think he was such an emotional wreck? Ginny brought her hands to her face and sniffed. "Hermione told me not to expect too much of you," she squeaked. "She told me you needed time."

"Why does everyone think I'm emotionally disabled or something?" Harry cried, completely exasperated. Ginny didn't reply, her face still hidden in her hands. Harry sighed and wrapped an arm around her awkwardly, pressing his face into her hair. "Don't cry." Harry sighed. "It's okay." If Ron were here now it wouldn't be...

"It's not okay though, is it?" Ginny whispered, lowering her hands and looking into Harry's eyes. Harry didn't reply, winding his finger around a tendril of red hair. What could he do? Ginny was looking at him as though he'd lost his mind somewhere. He leant towards her, thinking maybe he had, and wondering why he was doing this to both of them, when his phone went off in his jeans.

"You're vibrating." said Ginny, turning away and crossing the room to get a tissue. Harry tore his phone from his pocket and answered it.

"What?" he snapped.

"Hear me out!" said Malfoy's voice hurriedly.

"Go away!"

"Please! I won't make fun of you anymore!"

"I don't care! I'm not going back to Hogwarts." Malfoy huffed dramatically.

"You can have all the pictures from Godric's Hollow. They're yours."

"You can't buy me Malfoy." Harry growled. Ginny gave him a funny look and carried on chopping her vegetables.

"I'll do your wedding photos for free!"

"I'm not getting married you idiot." Harry snapped.

"When you eventually do get married, Potter." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Bye." He hung up – again, and turned back to Ginny.

"Am I missing something?" she asked.

"Draco Malfoy wants help with his career."

Ginny rinsed the knife under the tap. "Why not?"

"What?" Harry gasped. "He wants to take pictures of me at Hogwarts on Monday!" Had he heard her correctly? _Why Not?_

"You ought to stop carrying grudges Harry." She tutted, shaking her head. "You need to put the past behind you." She raised her eyebrows. "Besides, we'll all be there on Monday." Harry laughed.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No." she replied briskly. "So you're not coming, just because Malfoy's the photographer?" Harry flushed. So Ginny thought he should help the prick? She also thought he was carrying around grudges and suffering from some kind of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Great.

"I'm going." Harry muttered. "Home – I mean, not to Hogwarts." He heard Ginny sigh as he left the room.

"You shouldn't be frightened of him Harry." she said, just as he began jogging up the stairs in search of George and Teddy.

"_Frightened_?"

"You've always been the bigger person."

"I've never been frightened of Draco Malfoy!" Harry cried.

"Whatever."

Harry's bad mood reached astronomical new heights as he marched up the rickety Burrow steps. Never in all the seven – no wait..._Ten_ years that he'd known the git had he _ever_ been frightened of him. Malfoy couldn't scare a Pygmy Puff! He found George and Teddy in the bathroom, George scrubbing the boy's face with a damp flannel. "Harry!" George cried, seeing him in the doorway.

"I didn't do it!" Teddy squeaked, turning to face Harry with chocolate around his mouth.

"You weren't testing Weasley products were you?" Harry sighed.

"Just a little one" George confessed. Teddy giggled.

Harry grumbled good naturedly. He trusted George, but Andromeda would kill him if he brought Teddy home levitating with a limb missing. "It's time to go." he said, holding out his hand for Teddy to take once George had rubbed the last of the chocolate from his face.

"Did you talk to Ginny?" George asked his voice quiet as he walked them back downstairs. Harry nodded glumly. "Don't pay any attention to Ron," George smiled. "Ginny can take better care of herself than the rest of us put together."

"Tell me about it." Harry muttered.

~X~

Later that afternoon, when Andromeda had collected Teddy with all of his limbs, his feet firmly on the ground and his hair still Weasley-red, Harry had soaked in the bath, stewing in his own rage. Ginny must really have it in for him, he thought, if she was trying to make out he was frightened of Draco Malfoy. _Frightened of Malfoy? _What a pile of toss.

He got out of the bath and examined his reflection in the mirror, baring his teeth threateningly. "Very scary - if only you had clothes on." his mirror sighed in a languid sort of way. Harry ruffled his hair and sighed, wrapping a towel around his waist and thinking of getting drunk by himself.

"_You've always been the bigger person." _said Ginny's voice in his head.

Would the bigger person get drunk by themselves? Or would they agree to be at Hogwarts and have their picture taken? Defeated by the conscience in his head that always spoke in Hermione's voice, Harry sloped out into the hallway and picked up his phone, marvelling at how quickly he'd managed to memorise Malfoy's number.

~X~

Being the better person had no benefits at all, Harry thought sourly as he walked Charlie around the block in the faded light of the warm day. Malfoy had been unbearably smug at his relenting and Harry had no desire to go to Hogwarts on Monday, even if his friends were going to be there. He knew it was bad, but he had been feeling this way for longer than he would have liked and he couldn't help himself. It was months since he'd last seen Neville and Luna, almost a year since he'd seen Seamus and Dean, yet all he wanted to do was isolate himself, pining for Merlin knew what. He'd spend time with Ron and Hermione without much to say for himself, wondering why Ron could find funny stories to tell about his job, or how Hermione could hold a passionate conversation about hers.

After completing her NEWTs, Hermione had found and joined a force campaigning for the fair treatment of magical creatures. Harry often forgot it's name, but he knew it was run by a scatty middle-aged Witch who had no idea how lucky she was to have Hermione; the only thing keeping the whole shambles going. Hermione loved it all the same, and Harry knew a job rescuing a failing society with timetables and badges and porcelain mugs was made for her. It was a wonder she could stand a week away from it.

Ginny was waiting for him outside his flat when he returned. She stood next to the blue door in a lilac cardigan, her head tilted to one side. "I thought you weren't answering on purpose." she sighed, watching Harry climb the steps and scratching Charlie's ear as he leapt up to greet her. Harry watched her as he put the key in his door, still annoyed with her cheek. "Are you still angry because I said you were scared of Malfoy?" she smiled, sharp as ever.

"No." Harry snapped, feeling she had no right to be smiling, and annoyed that he wasn't more inscrutable. "I'm going on Monday anyway."

"I should think so!" she snapped back just as fiercely. "Dean and Luna are going, and they were locked in his cellar for months!" Harry pushed open his door and Ginny marched in after him. "Honestly, what's the worst thing the stupid boy has ever done to you? Throw a spell at you? Call you a name? You might have saved the wizarding world, Harry, but you still act like a twelve year old."

"That's not fair!" Harry shouted, slamming his front door and turning to face her. "I don't care about Malfoy! I'm not frightened of him!" Ginny shrugged her cardigan off and tossed it on the stand in the hallway.

"Whatever. I'm not here to talk about him." Harry watched her stalk into his kitchen and he heard his kettle being turned on.

"There's no escaping her!" Harry hissed to Charlie who licked his jeans affectionately.

"I heard that."

~X~

"Harry, I've met someone." Ginny said quickly, cupping a mug of tea in her hands and averting her gaze. Harry blinked. Well he hadn't been expecting that. He rotated his own mug, not really wanting it, and waited for Ginny to speak again. "It was at that Quidditch match I stayed sober for in January. He was a trainee Healer helping with injuries. We just clicked and it's... it's getting quite serious." She sighed. "I haven't told Ron. It's only been a month or so really and I don't want to scare Luca off."

"_Luca_." Harry muttered in a mocking voice before he could stop himself.

"Harry!" Ginny cried. "What the hell is your problem?" Harry resisted the urge to tell her she was too young for a boyfriend because that was the height of hypocrisy and idiocy.

"I didn't mean to do that." He sighed raking a hand through his hair. "I'm...I'm just pissed off because everyone else seems to know what they're doing with their life." Ginny smiled, and Harry was surprised to see she looked genuinely relieved.

"It's all a bluff Harry." she said. "No one knows what they're doing really."

"Right." Harry replied, figuring she was just saying that, and everyone else knew what ship they were on and Harry was still running around on the sand by himself with a dog, in a job that offered him no challenge and unable to hold down a girlfriend...

"Are you...okay?" Ginny asked, touching his hand and making him jump.

"Yeah." Harry said quickly. "Just beating myself up."

"I thought so." she grinned. "You're looking especially angst-filled." Harry drank some tea, and then spat it back in the mug because it was too hot.

"You know what?" he began, getting up to rinse the mug in the sink. "I'm happy for you." And he was. Ginny joined him at the sink, watching him scour the mug repeatedly.

"Harry," she began. "Do you want to talk?"

"We just have." Harry heard the test of patience in her voice.

"No. I mean... about you? About your love life?" _What love life? _

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry murmured. He dried the mug on his tea towel, keeping secrets from Ginny, keeping secrets from himself.

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked firmly. It was something he'd always loved about her. Once she'd overcome her initial inhibition involving him, she'd always been firm and frank, like a boy might be. She never beat around the bush and she was never afraid to challenge him.

"I'm happy for you Ginny." Harry sighed, putting the stupid mug down and turning to look at the girl he had always thought he'd loved. "I hope he treats you better than I did because you fucking deserve it." Ginny threw her arms around Harry's neck, catching him by surprise. She took a wavering breath.

"Don't you ever use language like that again." she scolded his shoulder. Harry held her tightly, breathing in her flowery smell and mourning for the loss of the girl he really, truly wished he could have loved.


	5. Five

**FIVE**

Sunday morning brought the promise of something new, and Harry was on his balcony with his shirt sleeves rolled up, trying to familiarize himself with, and reassemble Sirius' old motorbike parts in the small space with a large dog trying to sit on his lap. "Charlie, please." Harry pleaded, rubbing his sweat and oil slicked brow on his shoulder as Charlie lapped at Harry's ear, tail wagging. Just as Harry was wondering if he'd blow himself up by lighting a cigarette amongst all the oil, Charlie leapt clear over his head and skidded through the bedroom, barking hysterically. Figuring Charlie wasn't completely fruity; Harry guessed someone was at the door. He slammed the metal pipe he wasn't sure was even part of a motorbike onto the balcony floor and rubbed his hands on his jeans. Charlie circled his legs as he headed for the door, making strange gasping noises of excitement.

He was hardly surprised when he opened it. "Potter!" the angry blond snapped as soon as he saw him.

"Stop harassing me." Harry retorted as Charlie tried to squeeze his fat head through Harry's legs and inspect the stranger on the doorstep. Malfoy huffed derisively.

"Harassing you? Don't flatter yourself! I demand an explanation!" Harry shifted guiltily, remembering last night, a lot of sherry and a phone call to Malfoy that had consisted mostly of insults and profane language. He tried to ignore the heat in his face.

"Maybe I demand an explanation as to how you found my flat!" Malfoy rolled his eyes in disbelief. Harry noticed his hair was jelled in place today and he was wearing his usual sharp Wizarding robes, the top few buttons undone - presumably in the heat.

"I'm a photographer for the Prophet, idiot. Even the dimmest intern knows where Harry Potter lives." he sneered. "The one I spoke to knew the colour of your bloody shoes!" He took on a mocking tone as he continued; "_You'd think he'd wear red, being a Gryffindor and all, but he's so often in blue. Oh and doesn't it suit him? I wouldn't say no! Oh no I would not!_" Harry's heart thundered scandalously as Draco pouted at him jeeringly, fluttering his lashes and looking more girlish than he probably would have liked.

"Go away." Harry managed stiffly, looking at the floor and listening to Charlie's wounded crying at being left out of the party.

"Oh shut up!" Malfoy hissed, standing up straight again, his features snapping back into angry lines and a very different but familiar sort of pout. "Why can't you just show up tomorrow like the rest of the world would? What makes you think you have the right to behave like a bloody diva?"

"I'm not behaving like a diva!" Harry retorted, letting go of the door in his anger. _How dare he! _Charlie dived through the gap presented to him and pressed his nose into Malfoy's trousers, probably inhaling cedar spice and arrogance.

"Heel!" Malfoy snapped impatiently, pulling himself away from the damp, inquiring nose. To Harry's great surprise, he did, backing up with his tail between his legs. Harry was about to berate Malfoy for being rude to his dog when Charlie spotted a squirrel sitting on the wall of the house opposite, regarding them all curiously.

"Charlie no!" Harry yelled as his dog streaked down the steps in a chocolate brown blur, tongue lolling out as he made a beeline for the creature. Harry tripped after him and was vaguely aware of being tailed by Malfoy, shouting at Harry about control of animals and how stupid he was. "Charlie!" Harry scolded, grabbing the back of Charlie's collar as he pushed his nose against the wall where the squirrel had once been. From the cherry blossom tree in the garden, the squirrel regarded them again, and Harry wagered it probably wasn't the only thing in the street looking at them like they were a sideshow family.

"I haven't finished with you Potter!" Malfoy snapped behind him, and Harry reminded himself that Malfoy was not his family.

"Well I'm finished with you." Harry bit, shooing Charlie back across the street and marching towards his steps. Malfoy let out a low derisive laugh.

"Don't you talk to me like that!" Harry suddenly thought how much this sounded like a break up, and he walked faster, jogging up the steps to his flat. Malfoy tripped up the steps after him, stumbling on his knees and crying out. "Shit Potter. Look what you've done now!" Harry ignored his gasps of pain.

"Get away. This is private property."

"Stop talking nonsense and tell me why you're doing this!" Harry pushed open his door and delighted in the resounding bang it made as it hit the wall, ignoring the shower of plaster that fell in flakes to the floor.

"I don't have to answer to you, Malfoy! I don't want to go so I'm not going!" He spun around, ready to slam the door in Malfoy's face but stopped, taking a moment to enjoy the expression of rage on Malfoy's pale, pointed face and the tear in his trousers from his trip up the steps. The blond had managed to pull his lip into an almighty sneer and his brow was knitted like pale wool over his furious eyes. Harry felt the corners off his mouth quirk before he could help himself.

"You bastard!" Malfoy cried, advancing forward and shoving Harry in the chest. "You let me in and fix this" - he pointed to the tear in his trousers - "or I'll sit outside your abode wailing like a cat for the rest of my life."

Harry wouldn't put it past him. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly." came the low hiss. Harry sighed, opening his front door.

"Dear Merlin..." he muttered to himself as Malfoy elbowed his way in, muttering furiously and pausing to complement Harry's décor in a voice laden with sarcasm."Malfoy!" Harry called impatiently as he slouched into the kitchen, hearing disrespectful drawls from somewhere in his flat.

"Merlin's dick, Potter!_'How To De-robe a Witch by Frederick Sweet' _– you're charming aren't you?"

"That was a Christmas present!" Harry retorted. "Stop messing around and get in here!" He took two mugs from the cupboard and put the kettle on. Malfoy ignored him, and Harry could see him poking around his living room, peering at the record player and picking up the ceramic cottages that Harry displayed on his mantle piece. "Get out of there!" Harry snapped from the kitchen. Malfoy limped dramatically into the kitchen, his eyebrows raised in an affronted manner. Charlie followed him, his ears back as he sniffed frantically at the stranger from a safe distance. "Only guests are allowed in there."

Ignoring both him and Charlie, Malfoy examined the trinkets on Harry's kitchen worktop, lifting the top off the sugar bowl to squint inside before replacing it and prizing the lid from the biscuit tin. Charlie abandoned all trepidation he might have had towards Malfoy and leapt at him in excitement.

"Bloody _heel_ would you?" Malfoy snapped again, and he did, crossing the kitchen to cower behind Harry, tail between his legs.

"He doesn't like you." Harry grumbled, wondering how Malfoy could make a dog obey him so promptly. Frightening him obviously - _cruel Bastard._

"He's a bad dog." Malfoy retorted, replacing the lid. Then he added sharply, "And you're a bad boy for giving him biscuits." The kettle clicked and Harry poured the tea, telling Malfoy to sit at the table and stop being such a busybody. He placed the mug before him, catching the boy's eye with a scowl as he did so. "Eugh!" Malfoy exclaimed after a drinking a mouthful. "Reminds me of formal occasions."

"Well this is what Muggles do." Harry retorted, sitting opposite him. "They drink tea. All the time."

"Well done!" Malfoy cried, grabbing his rucksack where he had tossed it on the floor and pulling out a pencil and a notepad with _Stonehenge _printed on the front. He scribbled _'Drink Tea' _earnestly on a fresh page. "Anything else?"

"Why the hell are you writing that down?" Harry demanded, wondering if Malfoy had completely lost his marbles. "And when did you go to Stonehenge?"

"Never mind that Potter." Malfoy retorted, putting his pencil in his mouth and looking around Harry's kitchen. He sighed, leaning back languidly in his chair and catching Harry's eye, pencil still in his mouth. Harry swallowed. "Think of being a wizard Potter." he began. "Stereotypically, you'd say cloaks, wands, owls and so forth?" Harry cleared his throat and tilted his head, wondering where this was going.

"More or less." he mumbled. Malfoy smiled, leaning forward.

"What does being a wizard mean to you?"

"Um...Hogwarts, magic, Quidditch-"

"More."

"...Wizard Chess. The common room." Malfoy nodded feverishly. "Oh, I don't know Malfoy." Harry huffed, exasperated. "Why do you want to know?"

"Cut me some slack here Potter! I don't know what Muggles do!"

"I thought we were doing wizards?" Harry frowned.

"That was a warm-up exercise." Harry's frown deepened as he racked his brains for Muggle things. Then he wondered why he was thinking of Muggle things and what in Merlin's castle had gotten into Malfoy. He laughed.

"Do you fancy telling me what the heck is wrong with you?" Malfoy ignored him, looking down at his lap and frowning.

"I don't suppose you have anything for abrasions?" he asked. "Only I've cut my leg open on your steps."

"Don't be so dramatic." Harry sighed, standing up and crossing the room to where Malfoy was sat.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy cried scandalously, gesturing to the tear in his trousers and the graze on the knee beneath it.

"You look like a five year-old." Harry sighed, stamping to his bathroom. "Don't move!"

"I couldn't if I tried Potter!" Malfoy called back in a feeble voice. Harry opened his bathroom cabinet and took out the Dittany and plasters he kept stowed within it. He'd bought them a year ago under orders from Andromeda in case Teddy should fall. So far he'd needed them far more than his careful three year-old Godson. Malfoy's voice drifted from the kitchen in a melodramatic warble. "I'm bleeding to death!"

"Shut up!" Harry snapped, heading back with his first aid kit.

"This is your fault." Malfoy said in low voice as Harry took the lid off the Dittany and knelt on the kitchen tiles before Malfoy. He squeezed a drop onto the cut and Malfoy hissed and pulled his leg away.

"Take it like a man" Harry smirked, looking up at Draco with a playful scowl. His heart jolted however, at the way Malfoy was looking at him: eyes wide, lips parted. He looked...afraid? Harry cleared his throat. "You want a plaster?" Malfoy knocked the box from Harry's hand.

"No I don't want a bloody plaster." he snapped. He dug around in his bag for his wand and repaired the trousers, bringing the black fabric back together as he avoided Harry's gaze. Harry slunk back to his seat opposite him at the table again, watching him stow his wand away and scowl. He looked down at his mug of tea and realised that once again, he didn't even want it. He wondered where he'd picked up the habit of making tea in a crisis and thought of Mrs. Weasley. Then he wondered why Malfoy had a notebook and pencil from Stonehenge.

"When _did_ you go to Stonehenge, Malfoy?"

"I told you I went travelling." he snapped, pulling his rucksack up onto the table. He pointed to one of the fabric badges sewn onto it. It was an embroidered rock structure. "Stonehenge." he said like it was a badge of honour. Then he pointed out Lake District; an embroidered lake, Edinburgh Castle; an embroidered castle and most amusingly, The National Trust; an embroidered squirrel. Harry exploded with laughter, spraying tea all over Charlie who was sat at his feet and grunted in bewilderment at the sudden shower. Malfoy threw his bag on the floor, staring at Harry contemptuously.

"I'm sorry Malfoy." Harry cried tears of mirth in his eyes, as he grabbed a tea towel from the draining board to dry Charlie's back. "It's just the squirrel." Harry couldn't stop himself, the image of Malfoy pointing to his fabric badges like a boy scout was fixated in his head and he let out another snort of amusement.

"I'm going." Malfoy said darkly, standing up.

"Come on Malfoy!" Harry cried, biting his lip to keep his laughter at bay.

"What's wrong with the squirrel Potter?"

"Malfoy seriously!" Harry gasped, holding onto the side of the table for support. "When did you become a badge collecting squirrel fanatic?" Malfoy picked up his rucksack and strode across the room. Harry dove towards the kitchen doorway, putting his arm up to stop him. "Don't."

"Out of my way, Potter. I won't be laughed at."

"Oh come on." Harry sighed, trying to ignore how close Malfoy's scowling face was to his own. "What are you going to do about tomorrow if you go now?" he added alluringly. Malfoy blinked, looking into the green of Harry's eyes. He frowned, his expression fiercely gallant and aggressive. That was more familiar – if only he wasn't so mysterious and wearing a rucksack with a squirrel badge sewn onto it. Harry held back a smile, looking into Malfoy's eyes. They were hard and steely like a stormy ocean, making Harry feel unsettled and disjointed. "Sit down. Come on."

"No." Malfoy snapped. Harry sighed again.

"Show me more of your pictures. I really like them."

"What if there's one of a squirrel?" Malfoy retorted sniffily. It took all of Harry's strength to keep a straight face.

"I won't laugh." Malfoy scrutinised him scrupulously, narrowing his angry silver eyes.

"Am I allowed in the living room?" Harry huffed._ Bloody good-for-nothing ferret._

"Fine."

~X~  
It took Malfoy less than thirty seconds to return to his odd, buoyant self. Harry ordered Malfoy into the living room and poured him a glass of sherry, a draught he'd grown particularly fond of ever since Mr Weasley had bought him some for Christmas. Malfoy took his leather-bound case from his rucksack, crouching on the floor. Charlie sniffed the bag warily before laying down on the hearth rug with one eye fixed on the blond stranger in his home. Harry sat on the sofa with his sherry, prodding Malfoy's back with the toe of his sock and trying to topple him over. Malfoy paused in his actions.

"I'm not tolerating that sort of violent behaviour, Potter." he said warningly.

"Shut up." Harry retorted, feeling warmth within him at the strange familiarity. Malfoy turned around, giving him an arch look before opening his leather case and picking out a stack of pictures. He joined Harry on the sofa, sighing as he sat back against the cushions. "It's really bad actually," Harry muttered, sipping his beverage. "To be drinking in the day." Malfoy shrugged, knocking back his entire glass like it was water and handing Harry the stack of pictures.

"They're yours." he said. "Like I promised." Harry looked down to see the photographs of Godric's Hollow Malfoy had shown him already, along with some he hadn't seen. There was one of an old-fashioned sort of shopkeeper behind his till, smoking a pipe and grinning and another of two girls sitting on a brick wall, giggling and swinging their legs.

"How did you get these people to cooperate with you?" Harry asked him, marvelling at the open expression on their faces.

"I was polite and charming, Potter." Malfoy laughed, examining his fingernails. "I don't go around behaving like a wild bear you know." In Harry's opinion, he did. He carried on looking at the pictures, losing himself in the scenes and imagining himself there. Harry sighed - he really ought to move to the village if he was this fascinated by it. It made sense really. Malfoy waited patiently for him to finish looking, his eyes wandering around the room as he did so.

"Thank you." Harry said eventually, putting the pictures on the coffee table and looking at Malfoy.

"No problem scar-head."

"Malfoy," Harry began.

"Yes?"

"Why were you wearing Muggle clothes on Friday but not today?" Malfoy tapped the side of his nose.

"That's another story." he replied. "Snoopy."

"Fine." Harry frowned. "Why did you go to Stonehenge?"

"What's this? Some sort of interrogation? I went travelling Potter – I told you."

"Seriously Malfoy. To Stonehenge?"

"Oh my God Potter! Why do you care about Stonehenge so much?" Malfoy cried, an exasperated laugh fluttering in his words. Harry waited for an answer as Malfoy went back to examining his nails. "I wasn't allowed to leave the country for the first year I was out of Azkaban was I? Monitoring. You should know, as a bloody Auror." Harry did know, and he wondered why he had never bothered asking people in The Ministry about Malfoy after the war. "I went to Paris once." Malfoy continued. "I got into a lot of trouble."

"You're funny." Harry commented, wondering what sort of French shenanigans Malfoy had planned.

"And you're very rude." Malfoy sighed, packing away his things. "Well thank you for your hospitality, Potter."

Harry stood up. "You're going?"

"Yes. I have places to be and I know where you live now so I shall be here at nine tomorrow morning." he replied, picking up his rucksack and heading towards the front door. "Bright as a button." Harry had a feeling he meant bright and early.

"I can take myself to Hogwarts." he frowned. "If I'm going, that is."

"Listen to me four-eyes." Malfoy retorted threateningly, struggling with the latch until Harry opened it for him crossly, rather insulted. "You're going tomorrow if I have to break down your wall and drag you."

"Whatever."

"Nine." Malfoy repeated, backing out of the door.

"Watch the steps!" Harry snapped, grabbing Malfoy by the front of his shirt before he tumbled down the concrete stairwell. Malfoy stumbled, grabbing Harry's arm.

"This place is a death trap." he muttered.

"No." Harry corrected him. "You're just off your rocker." Malfoy raised his eyebrows and pretended to laugh. Harry looked down at Malfoy's pale hand, still tightly gripping his arm, his fingers closed over the muscle Harry had built up there.

"You're filthy, did I mention?" Malfoy said suddenly, his eyes flitting over Harry's face. "Actually filthy." Like a spooked animal, Harry let go of his shirt like it was a red-hot poker and shrugged Malfoy's fingers from his arm. He leered. "It's oil. I was working on something when you interrupted me." Malfoy raised an eyebrow at his frostiness.

"Nine."

Harry didn't reply, but watched Malfoy go, musing over the strange atmosphere between them. Why was the contempt so thick yet so familiar and comfortable? It almost allowed for Harry to get on with Malfoy, until he remembered his resentment towards the boy. It didn't matter anyway, Monday would spell the end of any more interaction with the idiot, and Harry could go back to his moping in peace.

~X~

After spending the rest of the evening walking Charlie around the block and chain smoking on his balcony, Harry began to wonder what sort of Australian adventures his two friends were having without him. Not thinking of the costs Hermione had already warned him about, Harry dialled Hermione's number on his mobile, surprised when Ron answered.

"You've learnt to answer the phone!" Harry cried.

"Took me long enough." Ron replied in a cheery tone. "How are you mate?"

"Not too bad. What's Australia like?"

"I've freckled." Ron whispered gravely down the crackly line. "Really bad." Harry laughed.

"I knew you would."

"'Mione's bought me a sun hat and I look like a right pillock."

"It can't be that bad."

"She's told me off for eating too many hot dogs and dropping a plate in her parent's house." Ron muttered.

Harry wagered Ron was having the time of his life, no matter how many freckles he got, sun hats he had to wear or lectures he'd withstood from Hermione. For a fleeting moment, he wished he was there with them, but he pushed this thought away quickly. He'd made his metaphorical bed, he'd just have to lie in it and enjoy the self-inflicted isolation. Hermione came to the phone just as Ron was entering a lengthy description about the busty girls on the beach. "Hi Harry! It's amazing out here! Ronald's driving me up the wall though– he won't stop eating and ogling girls."

"Hi Hermione." Harry smiled fondly.

"Anyway, never mind about that, what have you been up to?"

Now that was a tricky question. If he'd been face to face with Hermione at this moment in time, he'd have replied with '_nothing_' and she wouldn't have believed him. Here however, Harry was at an advantage, and she couldn't see the guilty expression on his face. "Nothing."

"Oh okay. Well, try to do _something_ Harry and we'll see you Sunday, okay?" she replied, sounding flustered as Harry heard a blasting TV and a cheering Ron in the background. "Sorry Harry – Ron! Put that off! Not with your wand! Ronald! - Sorry Harry, I've got to go. Bye!"

"See you then." Harry sighed. He was actually surprised to find Hermione hadn't challenged him – and truth be told, he'd wanted her too. He would have willingly accepted a lecture and he would have even gone as far as to fetch a pen and paper while she dictated a to-do list for him.

_Talk to Ginny, overcome emotional obstacles, and eat more fruit._

Feeling considerably crestfallen and bereft, Harry got into bed, patting the mattress to encourage Charlie to join him. He did, standing all over Harry with his heavy paws and slobbering on the sheets in his elation. Harry smoothed the fur on his back and stared up at his ceiling, his chest feeling leaden.

It would be nice, Harry thought, to share his bed with someone other than his Labrador. Of course he'd had Ginny, but on those occasions he'd been so plastered that he wouldn't have noticed if he was sharing his bed with a dragon. It wasn't as though Harry hadn't tried the dating scene. Or rather, the 'picking-up-girls-in-a-bar-but-not-getting-them-home-because-he-was-frightened' game. He usually kissed them and left them at the bar while he 'fetched his coat', really making a wobbly run for it out of the bar and Apparating home.

There had been worse (better?) experiences that Harry had repressed in the depths of his unconscious mind. On one particular occasion last year, a boy with sensationally blue hair and a pocketful of attitude had approached him, asking why he had a stick in his jeans. Harry, who had been very much alone in a Muggle bar and frightfully intoxicated, had shocked himself with his reply.

"Because I'm happy to see you." he'd slurred with what he'd intended to be a wink, though it seemed more like a facial prolapse. The boy, who was almost probably Muggle and most certainly gay, had grabbed Harry's collar and kissed him roughly on the mouth. He had, of course, been talking about Harry's wand tucked in his jeans pocket, but that didn't stop him reaching a hand down to see if Harry was happy to see him.

He had been.

"Are you going to dance with me?" the boy had asked.

Harry remembered a great deal of swaying on his part. "I can't."

"Are you going to come home with me then?"

It was all questions, questions with this boy, Harry had thought, right before he fell on him: almost dragging him down to the drunk people's hang out on the floor. The boy had probably been annoyed, and Harry vaguely remembered him disappearing in the distance as he was forcibly removed from the bar and placed outside on the kerb. Harry had rolled around for a while, trying to regain his balance and figure out what sort of obscene monster he had become when the boy reappeared with a crowd of friends. "Not cool." he said, watching Harry hoist himself up.

"Not cool?" Harry had snapped, lunging forward and almost overbalancing again. "I'm the coolest wizard there ever was!"

That had perhaps been Harry's lowest point thus far, and the morning after, he had reflected on the boy's horrified expression when he'd outed himself as a Wizard, but also how good his lips had felt on Harry's. It wasn't like he would have gone home with the boy if he _had_ been sober. No chance. Harry let out a long sigh and Charlie lifted an ear. "Everyone thinks I'm stupid." Harry muttered.


	6. Six

**SIX**

Harry was sleeping soundly on Monday morning, dreaming of gay experiences and marshmallows as big as his bed when a distant knocking interrupted him. Those were things he hadn't had for a while, he thought, feeling himself rousing: gay experiences and marshmallows. Charlie barked and Harry jolted awake, tangled in sheets that clung to his bare skin. The heat was stifling and unbearable.

"Get up or I'm breaking and entering!" came a familiar voice through the letterbox. Ignoring Malfoy at his door, Harry buried himself beneath the sheets, blinking sleep away. "Potter!" the clipped tones snapped. "It's one hundred degrees out here! I've got sensitive skin!" It was a good voice, Harry thought. Sharp and thrilling - not like his own grumbling tones. Charlie barked again, obviously nervous that the blond stranger had returned, this time shouting through the letterbox.

Harry sat up, horrified to find himself aroused. Although this was not an uncommon occurrence in the morning, he wasn't happy with it accompanying thoughts of Malfoy and his presence at the front door. "Don't come in!" he shouted, tripping out of bed and into his bathroom.

"I'm coming through the window if you don't open up!" Charlie whimpered at the bathroom door as Harry washed, thinking firm thoughts of the stripper-gram Nathaniel had received last year that his friends had been promising him. He'd been deliriously excited all through the day until an ancient wizard with a beard down to his knees had turned up at half past four, striping down to his bare, wrinkled flesh. Harry had gone home that day extremely traumatised.

Feeling considerably more in control, Harry dressed quickly, yanking open the front door as he pulled a t shirt over his head. "Indecent exposure just after breakfast." Malfoy commented, sidestepping Harry as he let himself into the flat. Harry ignored him, gandering at his outfit which consisted of dark jeans and of all things – a t shirt with **The Beatles **printed on it. His rucksack was slung over his shoulder and his hair was falling loose into his eyes. Malfoy wandered into the kitchen and Harry stifled a laugh as he caught sight of the squirrel badge. "You slept late." Malfoy remarked, watching Harry spill orange juice on the floor and call Charlie to lick it up.

"Sorry." Harry mumbled, not really sorry at all. If Malfoy hadn't shown up, he'd have still been dreaming about marshmallows right now, or taking care of more important matters that involved absolutely no thoughts of ancient stripper-gram's and maybe thoughts of gay experiences.

"We're supposed to be there by half past nine." Harry downed the orange juice, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"God Malfoy," he gasped, slamming his glass in the sink. "You're such a nag." Malfoy ignored him, his brow furrowed. Harry stopped to look at him. Though his attitude was still chirpy and irritating, something in his eyes seemed considerably more downcast than yesterday. His hair was also damp.

"Did you wash your hair?"

"Yes." Malfoy snapped, looking annoyed at the question. Harry chuckled, going into the living room to put the record player on for Charlie. The Beatles began to play, filling the room with their music.

"Malfoy." Harry called.

"What?"

"These are The Beatles, the band on your shirt. Did you know?" Malfoy came into the room to stand next to Harry and sneer at him.

"Of course I know who they are. Idiot." Charlie joined them both, his tail between his legs as he associated the record player with either Harry leaving him for a few hours or Harry making him dance on his hind legs when he'd drunk too much sherry. Malfoy was examining the front of his t shirt. "Tell me which one's singing." he demanded. "I always forget." Harry pointed at Paul McCartney's face, amused at Malfoy's strange knowledge in a world he wasn't familiar with, and had apparently wanted to suppress into slavery. "Who's your favourite?" he asked, a smirk dancing on his lips. "The one with glasses?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, because he has glasses like me. Very funny."

"Is it this moustache one?"

"No it isn't Ringo." Harry smiled. "And they all have moustaches."

"Yeah but his is...overbearing." Malfoy replied, scrutinising his shirt and tracing Ringo's moustache with a pale finger. Harry had to reality check the situation for a moment. If someone had told him last week that he'd be stood in his living room, discussing The Beatles' moustaches with Draco Malfoy, he'd have signed them both into St Mungo's. Malfoy himself was beginning to remind Harry of Teddy, which was a startling thought when he remembered they were related. Harry shuddered. "Is it this plain one?" Malfoy asked, gesturing to George Harrison.

"Yeah, he's my favourite." Harry nodded. "He's got a wicked smile." Malfoy stopped looking at his t shirt and looked bored instead. "_Hey Jude..._" Harry sang quietly.

"That's shocking." Malfoy remarked. Harry ignored him, pulling him from the room and out the front door.

"Come on Squirrel. Let's go."

~X~  
It was just as hot when they Apparated into Hogsmede - if not hotter. The path leading up to Hogwarts was dusty and dry and Malfoy and Harry walked it together in silence. A canopy of trees above their head offered them a web of shade that proved about as much help as the non-existent breeze in the still air. The birds sang in the brush as they passed, calling to one another in shrill tones. "Am I supposed to look pretty today?" Harry asked, breaking the silence as he remembered his picture was going to be in the paper._Merlin, why did he agree to this?_ The last time his picture had been in the paper, he'd been grimacing unattractively whilst walking Charlie. **'Boy Hero Scoops Poop' **the caption had read. Harry wanted to know who the hell was reading that shit – pardon the pun.

"As pretty as possible." Malfoy replied, rubbing at his eyes. "But I'm not expecting too many miracles." When they got to the gates, Harry saw far more people than he'd ever expected to and he stopped in his tracks, looking at the swarm of students, officials and professors. His mouth went dry and he cursed himself for not bringing water – and for turning up in the first place. Malfoy turned to look at him, his expression frosty. "Really Potter?" he asked quietly. "What do _you_ have to be worried about?" Harry caught up with him and they walked together again, a little bit closer than before. Malfoy didn't seem to mind, and his hand brushed against Harry's as they walked.

"Harry!" called a voice as Dean appeared, his sleeves rolled up and a radiant grin on his face. "Good to see you mate!" Malfoy immediately fell behind as Dean shook Harry's hand firmly. "You must be here for pictures and stuff, yeah?" Dean asked, clapping a hand on Harry's back and leading him away.

"Uh...yeah." Harry replied, looking around for Malfoy as he walked but finding him nowhere. Why did he have such a knack for getting lost in crowds? It made Harry nervous.

"Harry Potter!" Neville beamed, elbowing his way through a group of girls and pulling him into a hug. "I haven't seen you for months!" Harry was immediately surrounded by a knot of people, some of whom he recognised, some who he had no recollection of whatsoever but seemed to know everything about him. He was happy to see most of them anyway, and he even signed a girl's arm. Neville raised an eyebrow at him and handed him a glass of cold lemonade. Dean laughed and led him away to the cool shade of the castle wall.

"Hello Harry," said Luna, looking pretty in a summery play suit with a flower painted on her cheek. "Ginny's coming over now." Harry looked at where she was pointing and saw Ginny approach in a flowery dress with her red hair swept up. She looked beautiful – as always – and Harry was glad they had talked before today.

"The gang's all here." he said in a sober voice, immediately cursing himself for his gawkiness.

"Not quite." laughed Neville, gesturing for Harry to sit down in the shade. "Ron and Hermione are down under." Harry nodded, watching Luna take out a sketchbook and start to draw his portrait. She smiled absently, crossing her legs as she sat next to him on the grass.

"Hello." said Ginny, joining them. "So you weren't lying about helping Malfoy then, Harry?"

"No." he replied, trying to keep his posture still as Luna drew him. "I gave in."

"You what? That git's not here is he?" Seamus cried, appearing with Dean and several roles of parchment.

"He's a photographer for The Daily Prophet." said Harry. Seamus pulled a disgusted face and sat down with Dean and Neville, unrolling the parchments and holding them up for Harry to see. They consisted of elaborate and complicated plans of Hogwarts, much like the ones on the Marauder's Map.

"Dean's work." Neville said as Seamus pointed at the parchment in several areas, excited about his friend's work. "Remember I was telling you when I saw you last?" Harry did remember. Neville had told him all about the reconstruction work going on Hogwarts and how Dean had been the architect behind it all, using his talent with a quill to help carefully redesign the structure of the castle.

"You've all been busy then." Harry remarked as Luna tilted his chin up with her pencil.

"Oh yeah!" Seamus cried, clearly excited. "Neville's been offered a job as a Herbology professor once he gets a bit more experience."

"Really? That's great Neville!"

"Yeah!" Neville grinned. "Imagine that Harry! Me: a professor at Hogwarts!" Harry could definitely imagine that. Neville had after all been a hero three years ago. No one had foreseen that. Seamus clapped his hands together.

"I'm getting married Harry! I met the love of me life!" Harry broke out of his posture in surprise and Luna made a small noise of disapproval.

"Really? Is she here today?" Harry gasped.

"Really." Seamus replied, his grin alive on his face as Dean and Neville chuckled together knowingly. "And _he_ is." Dean slapped Harry on the back good naturedly as he blinked in confusion.

"He?"

"He." Seamus smiled. "Works in potions! Never blown anything up in his life! I'll introduce you later Harry." Harry nodded, allowing Luna to reposition his face.

"Wow...Where have I been?"

"Tell me about it Harry." Neville replied. "We've missed you."

Ginny was smiling at him in amusement, making a daisy chain as she watched Luna paint Harry with stars in his eyes and cat-eye glasses. With the sun warm on his face as he listened to his friends talk in the shade, it was easy to forget why he'd come here. He sat listening to Dean and Seamus talk about Quidditch and Neville telling Ginny about daisies that grew ten times the size of normal ones in the Swedish mountains. Ginny slipped the daisy chain around Harry's wrist as he rested his head against the stone wall, closing his eyes. She leaned close to his ear. "Malfoy's over there Harry." she said quietly.

Harry opened his eyes and looked ahead at the people on the front lawn. McGonagall was stood with Malfoy in the sun, pointing at the castle as Malfoy made notes in his notebook. He looked hot and bothered and Harry felt a pang of guilt. He stood up, excusing himself from the group and promising to return later. "Good to see you Harry Potter." said Madame Rosmerta from behind the lemonade stand as he passed, picking up a glass. She had a low cut dress on and stood fanning herself in the shade of a parasol. Harry made a mental note to tell Ron about it.

"Hello Profess-" Harry began as McGonagall threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She broke away almost immediately, arranging her features into formal sternness once more.

"Good to see you, Potter." she said stiffly, before hurrying off to speak to Kingsley Shacklebolt who waved at Harry from a circle of Ministry officials.

"Here." Harry said, handing Malfoy the glass of lemonade and waving back. Malfoy closed his notebook and accepted it, avoiding Harry's gaze as he drank.

"Having a catch-up were you?" he asked, his tone wry.

"Yes." Harry replied. "Neville's a teacher, Dean's an architect, Luna's an artist and Seamus is marrying another man." Malfoy raised his eyebrows but made no other comment on the matter. He shrugged his rucksack off his shoulders and stowed his notebook away, taking out his camera instead.

"Now comes my least favourite part." he muttered.

Harry was then made to stand for an hour in the sun as he posed for photographs with various combinations of Ministry Officials, old professors and friends outside the front doors of a newly rebuilt Hogwarts. He smiled like he belonged there, though he hadn't helped move a single brick to bring the castle up from the ashes. He muttered this to Ginny, who told him he was here because he'd brought Voldemort down, and without him, none of them, probably not even the castle itself, would be standing here today. Malfoy told everyone what to do in a firm but slightly wavering voice after Dean had said very loudly: "Listen to him or we'll end up in his cellar." Harry had frowned as the camera clicked but Malfoy's face was expressionless and cool. Kingsley stood next to Harry for the final photographs, and he lowered his voice.

"Are you here with Malfoy?" he asked. Harry swallowed nervously. There was no point lying.

"Yeah."

"Be careful Harry." Kingsley said, putting his arm around Harry on Malfoy's command.

"Why?" Harry whispered back through his false smile as the shutter went off once again.

"His father's in St Mungo's and we believe Draco is estranged from his home. I've heard he's become somewhat unhinged."

"Why is Mr. Malfoy in St Mungo's?" Harry asked quickly.

"Guilt, nervous collapse – we aren't sure." Kingsley replied. "He's unstable, and so is his son."

"That'll do." Malfoy said suddenly to the group, changing the film in his camera. Harry was the last to disperse from the front doors. He stood awkwardly, his cheeks aching from all the smiling, and caught Malfoy's eye. They looked at one another for a moment, grey locked on green as both silently tried to figure the other out.

So Malfoy was unhinged? Watching Malfoy watch him, Harry guessed his obscure personality made a bit more sense now. "Off you trot Golden Boy." Malfoy said in a low voice. "I've got enough pictures of your fat head."

~X~

Later, Harry met with Seamus' fiancé, Andrew: a handsome Wizard with dusty coloured hair who stood with his arm around the smaller man as he talked potions. Harry listened to him, trying to pretend he wasn't looking at the hand that traced absent circles on Seamus' waist. Dean bounded over to say he was leaving and handed Harry a scrap of parchment with his number on it. "My mother's holding a street party on Wednesday Harry. It's a Muggle thing, yeah? I'd love for you to come." he grinned, hurrying off again. Harry turned back to Seamus, looking at the parchment Dean had given him.

"Are you going on..." Seamus might have replied if Harry had finished his sentence and his lips weren't locked with Andrew's. Harry cleared his throat and Seamus looked at him, grinning wickedly.

"We'll be there Harry. It's going to be great!" Harry laughed, feeling his discomfort disperse.

Eventually Ginny called him away and he accepted the cup of strawberries she held out for him. "You look flustered." she said, a flower now painted on her face. It looked like Luna had been busy. "I've just been talking to Malfoy." Harry was staring down at the strawberries in the polystyrene cup. He looked up at the mention of Malfoy's name.

"How did that go?" Ginny shrugged, looking over at the blond who was taking pictures of the lake and rubbing his eyes. "We had very little to say to each other." she replied. "But he's...interesting."

"You bet he is." Harry sighed. Ginny shoved him in Malfoy's direction and turned to call Luna, wandering away and leaving him to it. Malfoy didn't turn around when Harry approached. He stood staring out at the lake, rubbing his eyes furiously. "You're not crying are you?" Harry asked, standing next to him. Malfoy gave him a wry look, his expression bleary.

"I'm tired, Potter. That's all."Harry offered him a strawberry and he accepted, putting it to his lips and sighing. Covertly, Harry watched him eat, taking in the sight of his dishevelled hair that had dried platinum and shimmering in the sun. Malfoy looked at him, fiddling with his camera.

"I'm going to take pictures inside." he said in a voice that was suddenly soft. "Come with me?" Harry nodded instantly and followed Malfoy back up the steps to the castle and through the heavy oak doors. It was refreshingly cool in The Entrance Hall and wizened Wizards tipped their hats at Harry as he passed. Malfoy ignored them as they did him. They started in The Great Hall where the glass in the windows had been repaired, letting sunlight pour through them, and the ceiling above them showed a gloriously blue sky. "What do you think?" Malfoy asked, taking a picture of the four tables lined up together.

"Of what?"

"Hogwarts."

Harry inhaled thoughtfully. "It's brilliant..."

"But it isn't the same." Malfoy finished for him. It was true. The castle had been rebuilt, brick by brick, but the bricks were a different shade to the old ones so it looked like someone had plastered up the gaping holes. Although Dean said they added character, Harry thought they looked like battle scars. Some might say battle scars are a thing to be proud of - Harry felt otherwise. To him, they were a reminder of a past where someone had torn his home apart. "Come on Potter." Malfoy said so gently, Harry almost expected him to take his hand.

He didn't, but Harry followed him out anyway, through the front doors and towards the Quidditch pitch. It was standing once more, the goalposts shining and the stands bright and new. Malfoy crouched in the middle of the pitch, photographing the goalposts with the sun behind them. Harry wandered over to him slowly, looking up at the stands and remembering matches gone by on a pitch that stood firm before war. He bumped into Malfoy as he strolled. "Watch it four eyes." Malfoy said quietly, lowering his camera.

"Do you remember we fought here before?" Harry asked, thinking of the rain and the punches. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Which occasion?"

There had been more than one occasion of course. The time Harry was referring to was after their fifth year match when Malfoy had insulted the Weasley's in a fit of jealousy after Harry had won the game. That same year however, Harry had leaned close to Malfoy's ear in the corridor, fury thundering through his veins and red obscuring his vision...

"_You couldn't take me on if your life depended on it._" he had murmured, the taunt achingly familiar, barely able to suppress himself.

Malfoy had turned to look at him, his eyes flashing at the proposed challenge. "_We'll see about that._" he'd hissed.

They had met at midnight on the pitch, Harry surprised to find him turn up at all, let alone without an accomplice and ready to fight. Harry had thrown the first punch, his body hungering for release as they fought in the light of the moon in the muggy darkness. Malfoy had been a dirty fighter; kicking and biting and digging his nails into Harry's neck. There hadn't really been a winner. Harry had thrown his weight around to the point of exhaustion and they had both broken apart, Harry covered in scratches and Malfoy in bruises. "_You've got problems._" Malfoy had panted.

Harry had launched at him again, knowing he wouldn't be happy until he'd killed someone. Malfoy had thrown him off, kicking him hard in the side when he was down. Harry had lain there, the wind knocked out of him as he wondered why he was so livid. "We could have been good friends, you and I." Malfoy had whispered, before spitting on the floor next to Harry and storming away into the veil of darkness...

"I remember." Malfoy said anyway, referring to either or both times and bringing Harry back to the present.

Harry closed his eyes, and felt the rain, then saw the darkness and both times: the sensation of devastating skin beneath his fists and Malfoy's fingers, closing around his throat as he spat venom in his ear. "_I don't know what they see in you, Potter._" he had hissed. "_You'll never be their saviour._"

When he opened his eyes, Malfoy's face was closer than before. "Stop dwelling on it, Potter." he said firmly, his face lucid. Harry nodded instantaneously and absently brought his hand up to rest on Malfoy's chest, frightened of the vanished distance between them. He felt the softness of the t shirt beneath his fingertips, and below it, the solid impression of Malfoy's lean chest.

"Have we finished?" Harry asked quickly, clearing his throat and turning away.

"...Yes." Malfoy replied, and Harry couldn't bear to look at him.


	7. Seven

**SEVEN**

"Are you aware you have flowers around your wrist?" Malfoy asked as they stood in the shade of the castle together, watching the Ministry Officials shake one another's hands and disperse. Clearly he was feeling impertinent again.

"No shit, Malfoy." Harry retorted dryly. "I hadn't noticed."

"It makes you look queer."

Harry scowled at him. "Is it possible for you to be civil? Ever?"

Malfoy shook his head, his eyebrows raised in an indifferent sort of way. "Not really."

Before Harry could dig at him further, maybe make fun of his outfit or ask him if 'baby Malfoy needed a little sleepy,' his phone rang in his pocket and he took it out. He was surprised to find it was Nathaniel ringing him and he accepted the call, holding the phone to his ear while Malfoy watched him curiously. The first thing he heard was a miserable sob – this threw him slightly off balance. "Nathaniel?"

"She's broken up with me Potter!"

"Nancy?" Nathaniel let out an agonised wail that sounded like a yes. Malfoy looked intrigued, and stood a little closer to Harry so he could eavesdrop.

"I'm sorry mate." Harry said, swatting Malfoy away. "How did it happen?"

"I told her I didn't like the hats!"

Harry frowned. "Is that it?"

"No." Nathaniel sniffed. "I threw one at her."

"You threw a hat at her?"

"A soft one!" Harry waited for Nathaniel to finish his fresh bout of sobs while he exchanged a quick glance with Malfoy who was chewing on his bottom lip, looking entertained. "I ruined...a beautiful relationship!"

"It might not be over mate-"

"She called me lecherous and clingy!"

"Maybe she's just angry-"

"She's sleeping with my cousin!"

Malfoy snorted and Harry clouted him, trying to interject Nathaniel's hysterical sobs. "Where are you now?" Harry asked him loudly, wondering at which point Nathaniel had decided he could rely on Harry for emotional support.

"At my dad's" came the sheepish reply. "He's making me bread and butter pudding."

"Right." Harry replied, rubbing his eyes wearily. Bread and butter pudding - of course.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" Nathaniel practically whimpered.

"You want to get hammered don't you?"

"Very much."

"I'll see you tomorrow." Harry sighed. Nathaniel ended the conversation with a grateful squeak and Harry put his phone back in his pocket, somewhat baffled. He was surprised - and quite honoured that Nathaniel had turned to him in his hour of need, and if being a good friend meant listening to someone wail down the phone about break ups and hats and agreeing to help them drown their sorrows, that was fine by him.

"Interesting company you keep, Potter."

"Better company than none at all." Harry snapped at him derisively.

Malfoy sneered and gestured for Harry to follow. "We're going. Come on."

The afternoon sun was high in the sky as they left Hogwarts castle behind them, and Harry's stomach grumbled at him miserably. "Did I eat breakfast?" Harry asked, turning to look at Malfoy as they walked.

"I think you exposed yourself to me, drank orange juice, spilt some on the floor and called your dog to lap it up."

"Oh yeah." said Harry, ignoring Malfoy's satire. "I'm starving." He pulled Draco along by his wiry arm, thinking about what Hogsmede might have to offer a hungry wizard.

"Don't pull me about!" Malfoy snapped, though he made no effort to snatch his arm away. Harry slackened his grip all the same, urging Malfoy on with descriptions of food. When they got into Hogsmede, they found it was busy in a lazy sort of way. People fanned themselves outside cafés, sipping cold glasses of pumpkin juice, and Harry saw a few of the Ministry Official had stopped for a lunch break on the benches outside The Three Broomsticks. Harry dropped Malfoy's arm and smiled into the sun's rays.

"Hi Harry," said a faraway voice in his ear.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Luna, holding a wicker basket in her arms. "Hi Luna." Malfoy cringed, stepping backwards and trying to disappear again. Luna looked at him sadly before turning back to Harry.

"We're having a picnic." she said simply. "I think it's a bad idea really. Nargles love picnic food and we'd only be tempting them, but do you want to come anyway?" Harry hesitated, glancing at Malfoy who was examining his fingernails, his expression furiously nonchalant.

"I-I wouldn't want to chance it Luna." Harry replied. "All those Nargles."

Luna nodded, smiling wisely. "I'll see you Wednesday Harry." she called softly, waving to both of them - Harry was quite sure of it.

"What the hell are Nargles?" Malfoy snapped a distinct edge to his voice.

Harry shrugged, prodding Malfoy towards an enticing smell. "I've never known." he replied. "I don't think I actually believe in them."

~X~

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon eating Greek salad in the shade of a parasol outside The Three Broomsticks, watching Malfoy eat slowly, pushing his food around the plate. He kept his eyes down, where as Harry watched the people strolling by, smiling at them and occasionally waving at a familiar face. "Do you love it?" Malfoy asked him in a gravelly voice. "The attention?" Harry looked away from the curly-haired witch who had just blown him a kiss and looked at Malfoy's angry form opposite him.

"What?" he snapped. "Are you serious?" Malfoy didn't reply, sighing at his plate of leftovers and clenching his fist on the table. Harry watched him, wondering where the happy go lucky Malfoy had gone and why the original – if not even more brooding and bitter Malfoy had returned. Then it hit him.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with a match.

Malfoy didn't reply, just looked at Harry and the cigarette in his mouth before snatching it away and throwing it on the floor. "That's bad for you." he tutted.

"So everyone keeps saying." Harry huffed, fed up of having cigarettes torn from his mouth. He looked at the cigarette smouldering on the floor and contemplated picking it up. "Malfoy?" he said again instead, noticing the way Malfoy had pushed his food to one side of the plate instead of eating it.

"What?"

"Where did you go Sunday afternoon?"

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, avoiding Harry's eyes. "What sort of question is that?"

Harry spoke before he could stop himself. "Did you go to St Mungo's?"

Malfoy froze and Harry cursed himself several times over. Leaning forward with furious eyes and pink cheeks, Malfoy scowled. "Who've we spoken to today, I wonder?" he began, his voice unsteady. "Who's been telling you my business?"

"I didn't-"

"Didn't what? Didn't mean to pry?" Malfoy hissed, standing up and leaning over the table towards Harry. For a moment Harry thought he would empty the glass of water over his head. When he remembered it was empty, it only lead him to worry that Malfoy might glass him.

"Malfoy, I-" Malfoy made a enraged noise and tore away from the table, Harry tripping after him. People stared after them with curious expressions etched on their faces, wondering what Harry Potter was doing chasing after the pale, blond boy in Muggle clothes that they perhaps recognised from a time not so long ago. Harry elbowed his way past an ice cream seller who tried to offer him a free cone of Raspberry Ripple for being a hero. "Malfoy!" Harry hissed, catching up with him on the dusty path leading out of Hogsmede.

"Shut up!" Malfoy roared, turning around to shove Harry in the chest, catching him by surprise. "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of everyone talking about me!"  
"Please Draco." Harry pleaded, guilt swimming within him. What the hell had he been thinking?

"You don't know me! You don't-" he hit out at Harry. "-know me!" Malfoy turned on the spot and Harry grabbed him just as he Disapparated, pulling them into nothingness and back again in a modern Suburban street. Malfoy widened his eyes, looking at Harry in horror. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?" he hissed, swiping Harry's hand off his arm.

"Draco, I'm sorry." Harry cried as Malfoy charged towards a glass apartment building, pulling open the entrance door with Harry hot on his heels. "Go home Potter." he snapped, jabbing the buttons on the lift in the foyer.

"Listen to me! I didn't know why I asked you! I'm sorry!"

The lift pinged, ignoring the argument and opening its doors calmly as though all was well. Malfoy charged inside and folded his arms, his eyes filled with burning hatred. He looked at Harry and narrowed them menacingly. "Don't even think about it." Harry was in the lift before Malfoy could finish his sentence and the doors snapped shut behind him. He stood in front of the panel of buttons, keeping the lift grounded. Malfoy stared at him with an intense loathing that made Harry wonder if one of them would be dead by the time the lift doors opened again. "Harassment!" Malfoy snapped his chest heaving and his knuckles white as he clutched the straps of his bag. "Unlawful imprisonment!"

"Kingsley told me about your father." Harry breathed, waiting for Malfoy to tear him limb from limb. He said nothing instead, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. "I won't say any more." Harry continued. "It's not my place." Still silent, Malfoy stepped forward and elbowed Harry out of the way with his sharp joint, pressing the number six on the panel. Harry watched him, desperately wondering what he was thinking. Malfoy stood back against the wall with his arms folded, avoiding Harry's gaze. The lift lurched upwards and why Harry couldn't have just let him go, he did not know.  
The lift pinged once more and the doors drew apart with both boys still alive, opening onto a white walled hallway and a door with a number eleven on it. Malfoy rummaged in his rucksack before pulling out a key with a Blackpool Pleasure Beach key-ring attached to it. Harry smiled, watching the other boy, unlock the door and let himself in. It didn't really surprise Harry when the door was slammed in his face before he could follow.

Undeterred, Harry began a constant rapid-fire rapping at the door, occasionally interjected with a barrage of "Draco."-s. This went on for several minutes, until Harry's knuckles had almost worn away and his legs were starting to ache. Eventually Malfoy tore open the door, his eyes tearful, and Harry almost rapped on his chest. "Go home, Potter." he said again, his voice broken.

"Oh Malfoy, I'm sorry." Harry sighed, exasperated. "Just as we were starting to get along too." he added jestingly. Malfoy wandered away from the door, leaving it open and bringing his hand up to his face. "Hey." Harry said softly, much like he would with Teddy on a bad day. "Hey, come on." He invited himself into the vast, open-plan flat and gingerly put an arm around Draco, stopping him from going any further. Malfoy stiffened under his touch and Harry half expected a knee in the groin. "Don't cry." Harry whispered, trying to decide whether he was more horrified by his probing questions or what he was doing now.

"Bastard." Malfoy said half-heartedly.

And that's all it was really: a bad day. Draco had been dispirited and he just needed a cake or some comforting words to make the gloom go away. "You want some cake?" Harry asked.

Malfoy pulled away from him and gave him a look that made Harry question which one of them was supposed to be unhinged. He crossed the room towards the door and for half a moment, Harry thought he was going to run out of it and leave Harry alone in his apartment. Instead, he closed the door and leant against it, watching Harry with curious eyes. "What did he tell you?" he asked his voice relatively calm. "Kingsley?"

"He said your father was in St Mungo's." Harry replied, deciding to leave it at that. He didn't fancy any more excitement today. Malfoy shuffled towards the cream sofa in the centre of the room and perched himself on it, staring at his lap. Harry joined him.

"Yeah he is." Malfoy said quietly. Harry waited, not sure if this was the end of the conversation or whether he should provide some sort of solace. As long as he didn't offer any more cake (that he didn't even have) he couldn't really go wrong. "I know he said something about me too." Malfoy said suddenly, and Harry couldn't hide the blush spreading up his neck. "Did he say I was crackers?"

"Uh-"

"Oh, you're so transparent." Malfoy huffed. "I don't blame him Potter. Look at me!" He gestured to himself and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up like Harry's. "I'm wearing Muggle clothes; I live in a Muggle flat – which I loathe. I mean the clothes I can live with but _the flat._..It's like a bloody greenhouse! Everyone can see right in! I don't know where I went wrong!" Harry listened avidly, moving closer without thinking about it. "I've left myself behind Potter. Somewhere out there is a close-minded Draco Malfoy in his Wizarding robes who makes cynical comments about everything and has no time for anyone but himself."

Harry grinned. "Maybe he's at Stonehenge."

Malfoy turned to look at him, a mixture of amusement and bewilderment playing across his face. "You're absolutely besotted with it aren't you?"

"What?" Harry laughed.

"Stone-bloody-henge!"

They laughed together, the obscure sound reverberating off the white walls and the expanse of glass window that made up one side of the entire flat. "You'll find him Draco." Harry sighed when their laughter had died, reaching out to flatten a lock of blond hair on the boy's head, his hand lingering there longer than necessary.

"You think?" Malfoy replied, turning to face Harry with a crooked smile that was pleasant but still wicked. Harry didn't reply, just flitted his eyes over the features of Draco's face: the sharp angles, the dip of the Cupid's Bow on his lips and the ever present lift in the corner of his mouth. His eyes swam silver and grey with a hint of blue and Harry watched as one fine eyebrow arched on his forehead. "Are you checking me out?" Malfoy asked, delight playing across his face.

"Just a little bit." Harry confessed without thinking.

Oh my God he was.

And he'd just admitted it.

Malfoy leaned close to him, a snake-like smile on his lips and Harry didn't make a single move to stop him. As if in slow motion, his hand settled on Harry's thigh, burning it with the contact. "You," he began in a sultry voice that registered in Harry's crotch. "Have to go now."

"I do?" said Harry.

"I've got pictures to develop." Harry didn't get up, but remained sitting on the cream sofa, looking at the hand on his thigh. Malfoy dragged the hand down to Harry's knee, patted it and took it away, leaving Harry to turn to him with a pleading expression he could barely conceal. "Go on." Malfoy said coaxingly.

Harry stood and shuffled awkwardly to the door, looking into the mist of Draco's eyes. "Will you show me the pictures tomorrow?" he asked. Malfoy made to close the door, prodding Harry in the direction of the lift and grinning at his suggestion.

"I'll bring them to you, Potter." he murmured. "How about that?"


	8. Eight

**EIGHT**

Harry was sat at his breakfast table the next morning with a slice of toast in his hand, his leg quivering involuntarily as he ate. "Don't look at me like that." he grumbled to Charlie who was sat on the tiled floor next to him, gazing up at Harry with inky-black eyes. He was probably only waiting for Harry's crusts and a breakfast biscuit he wasn't supposed to be having, but Harry felt he was being judged all the same. "He's not that bad," Harry began. "Just misguided and a bit weird."

Charlie put his paw on Harry's knee, maybe to console him or to let him know he'd joined the ranks of people who thought he had emotional problems. Harry dropped his crusts on the floor to distract him and it worked; Charlie wolfed them down, his tail wagging happily. "Don't judge me Charlie. It might just be a phase." After licking the last of the crumbs from the floor, Charlie looked up at Harry, waiting for more. Harry stood up and opened the biscuit tin, throwing one on the floor before he could stop himself. "I'm not talking about it anymore. That's the end of the conversation."

~X~

Late in the afternoon when the sun was still high in the sky, Harry met Nathaniel at The Hammer & Tongs on the edge of town. It was a Muggle pub that Nathaniel often took him to, a place his father had apparently visited often when he was a boy with his own father. It was alive with character and good spirit and popular enough to harbour a multitude of interesting folk, but not so well known that it was over-crowded and stiff.

Harry found his friend sat in the corner, slowly rotating half a pint on its coaster and looking utterly morose. He caught Nathaniel's eye and gave him a sympathetic smile before making his way to the bar. "He's looking sorry for himself isn't he?" said Glenda, the fifty-something bar woman with a sleek bob, pulling Harry a beer.

"Girl trouble." said Harry.

"Silly really." she sighed, accepting the coins Harry dropped in her hand and handing the pint to him. "Two handsome chaps like you ought to have no trouble with the girls."

_Haha._

Harry sat at the table with Nathaniel and took a sip of his pint. He'd never really been much of a pint bloke, but he'd fallen into the habit of doing it with Nathaniel and Ron, who both seemed to think there was nothing in the world like straddling a hard bar stool with a pint glass full of something bitter to drink. If Harry had his way, he'd have something sweet like sherry whilst sat in a squashy armchair. "Go on." Harry sighed. "Tell me all about it."

Nathaniel shifted on his stool and took a sip from his glass. Harry noted he was not wearing any sort of hat today and his hair was slicked back with jell again. "Nancy looked in my desk." he said sheepishly. Harry raised an eyebrow, indicating for him to elaborate. He had a feeling the argument hadn't been as one-sided as Nathaniel had implied. "I'd been Owling Layla." he said quickly. "Nothing sordid – I swear!" he added as Harry giggled. Layla, the Ministry flirt who Nathaniel had always harboured a soft spot for was a Pureblood witch who would have had about as much luck with a phone as Ron had. The thought of Nancy – a Muggle who thought Nathaniel worked as a security guard - discovering scandalous parchments in Nathaniel's desk tickled him greatly. "I'm glad you're laughing." Nathaniel huffed. "She seemed to think I'd choreographed some kind of elaborate affair behind her back." Harry snorted into his pint glass as Nathaniel sighed dramatically. "You know how long I've loved Layla, Potter-"

"Loved?" Harry scoffed. "You love her now? Last I heard she had a beautiful cleavage you'd like to spend the day in." Nathaniel groaned, looking up at the beams on the ceiling. Harry sighed. "Alright, fine. So you love her. What about Nancy?"

"We argued. She accused me of cheating. I said I hadn't but I wanted to."

"Harsh Nathaniel."

"I know."

Harry put his pint down, remembering Nathaniel's hysterical sobs. "What about your cousin? She'd been sleeping with him?"

"Slept...once...before we were together." Nathaniel admitted. "But it had seemed worse at the time."

"And you told her you didn't like the hats?"

"Yeah. Then she threw one at me and packed her stuff and left." Nathaniel sighed, dipping a finger into the froth of his beer and sucking it. "But it was for the best right?"

"If you're sure you love someone else then yeah." Harry replied, still trying to figure out why Nathaniel had been so inconsolable if he'd wanted it to end.

"Here's to Layla." Nathaniel said, holding up his glass and knocking it against Harry's. Harry tutted at him good naturedly, before going up to buy him another pint.

"Another thing," Nathaniel said as Harry sat down again, pushing Nathaniel's drink towards him. "That arty type that came looking for you, he was the Malfoy kid wasn't he? The Death Eater!"

"He...uh – he isn't a Death Eater any more. He-"

"Weren't you enemies or something?" Nathaniel asked before drinking deeply from his pint.

"Yes. But not now. We're...friends. I think. I don't know." Harry paused to think, feeling himself growing agitated. "It doesn't matter..."

Nathaniel gasped suddenly, widening his blue eyes. "You never told me you swung that way Potter!"

"What? I don't! Especially not with him! I wouldn't touch him with a twenty foot broom!" Who the hell was he kidding? He'd thought about him in the shower that morning. Oh dear God...Nathaniel looked confused for a moment, and then shrugged. Harry continued. "We're friends." he said shortly. "Sort of. Something like that."

"Fuck buddies?"

"Merlin's tit..." Harry seethed as Nathaniel giggled in delight. How could he explain what he had with Malfoy now? All his life he'd known he was an enemy, a loathsome person, someone he had never liked. Now what? He was different, but the same and there was something more but something less about the pointed blond with eyes of silver-blue. Harry shrugged his thoughts away. They'd seen past their disputes clearly, so why wasn't he bloody satisfied?

"Do you think Layla'd do me?"

Harry rubbed at his eyes. He'd forgotten about the way Nathaniel's mind worked. "Yeah, why not mate?" Harry sighed. "I'm going out for a smoke." He stood up, taking a cigarette from his packet as he did so. Of course there was no need for him to go outside in a pub, but company often made him feel suffocated as of late: another stupid habit he'd developed. Harry stood next to the flowerbeds growing in the window boxes outside, blowing smoke into the air with his back against the bricks. He pressed into the rough stone and closed his eyes, smiling at the sight of a squirrel shimmying up an oak tree across the road when he opened them again. When he went back in, Nathaniel had bought him another drink and seemed intent on getting them both wasted.

"Hey!" he cried as Harry sat down again. "I forgot to tell you!"

"What?"

"Those pixies we brought in on Friday turned out to be transfigured trolls! There was devastation in the Misuse of Magical Creatures Department! They were so angry, they sent Grimsby out to get the guy we warned."

"Trolls?" Harry gasped, thinking of the wicker baskets full of slumbering pixies he had carried in his arms.

"No wonder he told us to be careful!" Nathaniel grinned. "Grimsby almost got trampled to death, he's furious."

"Nath?" Harry said contemplatively, thinking of Grimsby's handlebar moustache bristling comically while he watched the bubbles in his beer. "Why did you become an Auror?"

"Girls." Nathaniel retorted with a grin.

"Really?"

Nathaniel's smile faded slightly and he looked thoughtful as he chewed on his lip. "No. Not really." he said, taking on a distant expression. "My mother." Harry watched Nathaniel's face carefully: his eyes were focussed on the table as he picked at the splashes of paint on his jumper. "She died when I was young, yeah? Gang of young wizards mugged her."

"I'm so sorry." Harry whispered, figuring it was why Nathaniel only ever mentioned his dad.

"They were school drop outs so they learned their magic on the street. Didn't know what they were doing. Probably didn't mean to kill her, just wanted the gold in her pocket." Nathaniel looked up at Harry with shielded eyes. It was an expression he'd seen too many times and one he often wore himself: We _don't talk about it. It hurts too much. _It signalled the end of the conversation and Nathaniel sighed, taking a drink. "So why did you become an Auror?" he retorted, grin back in place as he raised a playful eyebrow. "The boys?"

It was going to be a long night.

~X~

After Harry's third pint, he was feeling considerably more warm and fuzzy, and even took Nathaniel on in a game of pool, losing miserably as he always did, his Seeker ability useless at a sport involving sticks and calculated aim. At somewhere around the half past seven mark, the pub grew busier and the atmosphere began to pick up, bringing with it working men and even a hen party that Nathaniel gravitated towards with a delighted grin on his face. As he tried to set Harry up with a set of twins who found everything he said worthy of shrill giggles, Harry slipped outside for another smoke.

The sun had sunk lower in its bed of azure, casting a more saturated light on Harry's surroundings. The air was still warm and Harry pressed his back against the wall again, watching the oak tree across the road to see if the squirrel was still busy. Apparently it had gone to bed, as Harry saw no sign of it. As the twins let out another pair of piercing giggles from inside, and Harry wondered if it was his bedtime, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "'lo?" he said wearily as he answered.

"_'lo_ to you too." said a clipped voice that gave Harry butterflies.

"You developed your pictures yet Badge Boy?"

"They're in the paper." Malfoy replied. "Didn't you see? You look as awkward as ever, I must say."

"I didn't see, but thanks a lot." Harry smiled. He cursed the third pint that seemed to have take away the part of his brain that generated speech. The rest of his body seemed to be working however, as Malfoy let out a sigh his body responded to in a way he would have rather it hadn't. "Malfoy." Harry said in a voice louder than he'd intended. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?" Malfoy replied, and Harry could hear the smirk in his voice.

"What are you doing right now?"

~X~

Malfoy Apparated around the corner in seconds, swaggering up to Harry with a Daily Prophet in his hand. He was wearing the same denim shirt he'd worn when he'd first encountered Harry in The Ministry and of all the things on Muggle Earth: ripped jeans. Hats off to Malfoy, Harry thought, reality checking his situation and worrying about himself, he could get away with showing that much skin.

"That's my favourite one." Malfoy sneered as soon as he'd reached Harry, spreading out the front page and pointing to the main picture of Harry frowning next to Ginny in front of Hogwarts. "I think Dean Thomas had just made his little crack about me, and you found it very painful."

Harry snatched the paper from Malfoy and frowned at his own frown. "Great."

"Isn't it just?" Malfoy grinned, taking the cigarette from Harry's hand and taking a drag before throwing it on the floor. "Aurors shouldn't smoke Potter." he said, exhaling smoke and putting a finger over Harry's lips as he opened them to complain. Harry froze at the feel of the cool finger against his lips, his heart thundering in excitement. _Merlin, why was he playing this game?_ He looked at Malfoy; his hair falling into eyes that sparkled with audacity. Malfoy's lip curled again and he took a step forward, his profile closer, tapping Harry's mouth with his pale finger. "Then again, when have you ever played by the rules?"

There was a rush of noise as the pub doors opened and the hen party clacked onto the street, stumbling in high heeled shoes and blowing kisses to Nathaniel who waved them off in the doorway. He turned and caught sight of Harry and Malfoy, the latter still with his finger against Harry's mouth. "Oh come on Potter! If you're not fucking then I'm the bloody Queen."

"Shut up and Get in!" Harry hissed, tearing away from Malfoy and prodding Nathaniel back in the pub.

Malfoy followed his expression cool and ever so slightly entertained. Harry stood at the bar and ordered a round of drinks, gesturing to the table to make Nathaniel sit.

"Thank you Pot." Nathaniel hiccupped, accepting the drink Harry handed to him. Malfoy smirked and joined them at their table, looking down at his own pint with distaste. "I was telling those girls about Nancy." Nathaniel began with his expression forlorn. "They told me I was a love mouse."

"Love _rat_." Harry corrected him. "Do you agree?"

"No!" Nathaniel snorted loudly. "I'm not a rat and I'm not wrong." He took a deep drink from his pint, eyeing Malfoy foggily as he did so. "You've not introduced me to your boyfrie-"

"Cut it out." Harry bit.

"Sorry Potter. My mistake. Sorry." Nathaniel snuffled, giggling quietly at his own joke.

Harry blew out a breath, forcing patience. "Draco, this is my friend Nathaniel. Nathaniel, this is Draco: my..."

Oh Merlin. Friend? Enemy? Acquaintance?

"Fuck buddy?" Nathaniel offered.

"Right that's it." Harry snapped, standing up. "That's enough. I'm going home."

"Potter no!" Nathaniel cried, grabbing a handful of his t shirt and clinging to it desperately. "I'm sorry!"

"No! I told you to stop saying that!"

"Oh sit down, Potter." Malfoy said smoothly. "Stop being such a drama queen."

Harry looked at him sceptically, watching him sip his pint and grimace. Nathaniel tugged at Harry's t shirt, leaning on the table and going slightly cross-eyed. How much had he bloody drunk?"You'd better shut up." Harry growled at Nathaniel as he sat himself down again. Nathaniel nodded avidly. "Just because you've broken up with Nancy, it doesn't-" Nathaniel let out a loud whine and buried his face in his hands. Widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows, Malfoy looked on in disbelief.

"Mate," Harry began, touching Nathaniel's shoulder.

"I shouldn't have broken up with her! No one else will love me!" Nathaniel wailed. A few heads turned in their direction, eyeing Nathaniel with interest in the hopes he might liven up their Tuesday night.

"Layla likes you doesn't she? And you love her!" Harry soothed.

"What if she doesn't? I'll die alone!"

"That's a bit of an overreaction-"

"What does she say to you?" Malfoy interjected firmly. "This _Layla_?"

Nathaniel lifted his head from his hands and turned his face towards Malfoy, sniffing. "She asks me what I do in work and she says she likes my hair." Nathaniel replied reflectively before screwing up his face in anguish. "But what if she likes everyone's hair?"

"She _is_ a flirt." Harry reasoned.

"You'll just have to one-up her." Malfoy shrugged. "If she's a natural flirt you'll just have to be the man she drops everything for."

Nathaniel looked intrigued. "How do I do that? Buy her stuff? Tell her she's beautiful, yeah?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Act like you don't give a toss." he said. "Don't rise to the bait, keep your cool and challenge her, always challenge her." Harry thought it was vaguely significant that Malfoy was looking at Harry while he spoke.

"Challenge her?" Nathaniel repeated.

Malfoy smirked. "She won't be able to resist."

"This man's a genius!" Nathaniel cried. "Someone buy him a pint!"

"I already did." said Harry.

Spirits considerably lifted, Nathaniel challenged Harry and Malfoy to a game of darts which Malfoy won by a stretch. Harry was furious, he'd thought he'd been good at this game and there was no way a Pureblood wizard was going to come along and thrash him. "We're having a rematch!" Harry snapped at a smug Malfoy. "You probably spear small animals in your free time."

Malfoy drank from his fresh pint in celebration, accepting an overly keen clap on the back from Nathaniel who'd come last because the amount he'd had to drink meant he could barely get a dart on the board. "Me? Spearing small animals?" Malfoy blinked. "What about the squirrels, Potter?"

"It's all a ruse." Harry retorted, pulling the darts from the board.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, standing behind Harry and lifting the hand holding a dart."It's your posture you know. It's too stiff." He tilted Harry's arm up, his hand gripping the tense biceps and the toe of his black converse kicked at the heel of Harry's red ones, urging Harry to move one leg forward slightly. "Your feet should be together, it's not a bloody duel." Harry felt the pressure of Malfoy's hip bone against his backside and shameful thoughts engulfed him. Nathaniel wandered around in front of them, stopping next to the dart board and making rude hand gestures for Harry to see.

"Nice place to do that Nathaniel." Harry said dryly. Nathaniel laughed gleefully at his own antics and Harry shrugged Malfoy off, throwing the dart forcibly at the board and getting a bull's-eye, leaving Nathaniel wide eyed at the narrow miss. Harry felt Malfoy stir behind him and he felt a hand ghost his waist.

"Control yourself Potter." the amused voice murmured. Harry wondered how long he could fight it, and whether he would keep fighting it at all. One thing was certain: Malfoy knew.

~X~

It was closing time when Harry decided it was finally time to leave. Harry guessed Nathaniel had drunk about nine pint's, two glasses of sherry and three shots of tequila in the ten minute space he had felt like having a 'Mexican Party'. Nathaniel was currently located on the floor with his back against the brick walled pub, smoking a cigarette he'd valiantly fought off Harry. "I gave... I gave these up for my j-job." Nathaniel sighed, inhaling deeply and blowing smoke into the night air before him. His cheeks were pink from the alcohol and his collar was sticking up on one side, making him look like a typical Tuesday night drunk.

"I'm a bad influence then." Harry muttered, trying to take the cigarette away.

"No!" Nathaniel cried. "I need it."

Harry looked around for Malfoy and found him standing half a metre away, looking off-colour. "You okay?" Harry asked him, feeling reasonably sober in comparison to Nathaniel, who was singing off-key to himself.

Malfoy nodded quickly and gestured to Nathaniel. "He should go home."

Harry looked back at his friend and saw he'd closed his eyes, the cigarette still smoking in his mouth as he nodded off, having apparently sung himself to sleep. "Come on you." Harry sighed as he tugged Nathaniel up, taking the cigarette from his mouth and throwing it on the floor. It was a rewarding feeling really – no wonder everyone kept doing it to him. Harry pulled Nathaniel's arm around his shoulders and held him steady. He gestured for Malfoy to help him and he did, frowning under the weight of the man. "Now everyone shut up." said Harry, though no one was speaking. "I need to concentrate." Screwing up his face, Harry focussed on thoughts of Nathaniel's house and spun firmly on the spot, vanishing into nothingness and back again outside the gates of his terraced two bedroom home. Nathaniel grunted and his head lolled onto Malfoy's shoulder.

"Are we having a Mexican Party?" he murmured.

"We already had one." Malfoy replied in a surprisingly soothing tone.

"Keys Nathaniel?" Harry asked, prodding his friend in the side.

"I got it." Nathaniel muttered, breaking free of Malfoy and Harry's grasp and digging in his pocket for his house key. He lifted it out and stumbled up the garden path, Harry catching hold of the back of his shirt as he tripped on the crazy paving. "I got it." Nathaniel said again, stepping up to the red front door and jabbing it with his key.

"A key usually goes in a _lock_." Malfoy offered dryly.

Harry ignored him and took the key from Nathaniel, opening the door and hoisting his friend all the way up the stairs as Malfoy sat on the doorstep and waited. "Potter?" Nathaniel said as Harry threw him onto his bed took off his shoes.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think my mother would be proud of me?"

Harry looked at his friend, slowly unlacing the knot on his shoe. He slipped it off and let it fall to the floor. "Yes." he replied.

"Really?"

"Really." Harry said firmly. "Maybe not now while you're pissed as a Warlock..."

Nathaniel snorted appreciatively and rolled over onto his stomach. "Night Potter." he mumbled as Harry headed towards the door, smiling absently. "Happy shagging."

It took most of Harry's strength to restrain himself from going back and throttling Nathaniel while he slept. Instead, he jogged back down the stairs and out the door, pulling it shut and almost tripping over Malfoy who was still sat on the doorstep. Harry hoisted him up, looking at his grey face. "You don't look too good." Harry murmured.

"But I'm bloody gorgeous." Malfoy retorted, gripping Harry's elbow to steady himself.

"You need a coffee."

Malfoy snickered to himself, leaning close to Harry's ear. "Am I coming home with you?"


	9. Nine

**NINE**

"Malfoy you look terrible." Harry whispered as soon as he'd gotten the boy under the heavy light of his kitchen.

"Shut up." Malfoy retorted, after struggling to think of a comeback. Charlie approached Malfoy, sniffing him cautiously as Harry put the kettle on and dug around in his cabinets for a jar of coffee. Malfoy bent down to stroke Charlie's ears, cooing to him softly. "You're a fat boy aren't you?" he murmured. "Just like your master."

Harry scowled, getting two mugs out. "Just because you're a walking broomstick, with no muscle."

Malfoy stood up and leaned against the kitchen table, closing his eyes. "And you're a muscle man are you Potter? A '_beef cake_'?"

The kettle clicked as Harry snorted, spooning coffee into the mugs and adding an extra teaspoonful to Malfoy's. He fetched the milk from the fridge as Charlie sniffed his jeans, taking in pub smells and hoping for some sort of snack. "You tell me Malfoy." Harry smirked, turning around with the mugs of coffee.

Malfoy might have told him if he'd been in the room, but the kitchen however, was now quite deserted. Harry tutted, setting the mugs on the table and wandering into the hallway. "You better not be nosing in my living room again." he muttered, entering the room only to find it empty. Harry frowned, checking the bathroom and finding that empty too. He wandered into his bedroom and froze at the sight of Malfoy sprawled on his bed, breathing deeply. "Oi!" he cried, prodding Malfoy in the back. "Come on, I've made you coffee." It wasn't like he hadn't thought of Malfoy on his bed - and in it, but he certainly hadn't envisioned it like this. Harry prodded Malfoy again, this time harder.

"Stop it!" Malfoy snapped as though he had every right to be there. He reminded Harry of one of Mrs Figg's cranky old cats who'd eat too much and doze on the comfiest chair, scratching Harry if he tried to move him. Harry flicked the light on, ignoring Malfoy's groans of protest and he stooped to look at his face. It was greyer than before and his brow was furrowed. "You didn't even drink that much." Harry said, sweeping his hand over the boy's forehead. "Lightweight."

Malfoy swatted the hand away, shielding his eyes from the light. "I didn't eat beforehand. Turn the light off." Harry turned off the light and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling Malfoy's converse trainers towards him and starting to unlace them. Malfoy whined and kicked his legs like a difficult child until Harry had pulled off both shoes, throwing them on the floor before removing his own.

"When _was_ the last time you ate Malfoy?" he asked, thinking of yesterday when Malfoy had pushed his food around the plate. He _was_ridiculously thin – and not just standard Malfoy thin either. He ignored Harry and rolled away to the other end of the bed with his back to him. He let out a groan and Harry got onto the bed with him, looking at his slim frame as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even in the dark, Malfoy's hair was still luminous: shining in the little moonlight that passed through the slats in Harry's blinds.

"Ughh." said Malfoy softly, and Harry smiled and shifted closer to him, reaching out to rub his back soothingly. He half expected to be scratched by the grumpy old cat that was Malfoy. Instead, Malfoy tensed: Harry could feel the muscles seizing beneath his touch. He wondered if there was a reason Malfoy was so frigid, or if it was just part of his personality.

"It's okay." Harry whispered, still moving his hand in comforting circles over the denim of Malfoy's shirt. Eventually, Malfoy's muscles relaxed again and he leaned back - ever so slightly - into Harry's comforting touch. It might have been because he'd fallen asleep, but Harry didn't dwell on it too much as his own eyelids were growing heavy.

When Harry came to again, it was still dark. His head ached and he felt stuffy, his body telling him it wasn't time to get up yet. He squinted in the dark through his blinds and saw a purple sky: it was barely dawn. When he rolled over, he found he was alone and his heart jolted. A noise registered in his ears and he listened in the darkness.

Malfoy had gotten up to be sick in his toilet, and Harry heard the taps running as he washed up, grumbling miserably to himself. The door made a soft noise on the carpet as Malfoy came back into the room, and Harry watched him as he collapsed onto his bed, groaning. "Bastard." he hissed. Not sure how it was his fault, but not really minding anyway, Harry drew close to Malfoy, watching him take ragged breaths. He listened to Malfoy's soft whines as he rubbed his back again, even though his arms ached with fatigue and his eyelids were leaden. Eventually, Malfoy fell silent and his breaths drew further apart. Harry listened to him, trying to remind himself that this was the boy he'd fought with all through school and also an ex-Death Eater. It didn't really seem to register, and Harry kept moving his hand, feeling Malfoy's spine beneath his shirt...

Sure he was asleep, Harry dared to trace his finger over the pale line of exposed flesh between Malfoy's jeans and his shirt. Malfoy shivered and he did it again: trailing his finger over skin that was too hot and soft to touch. Slowly, Harry slid his hand beneath the shirt and over the expanse of bare skin on Draco's back. He ran his hand down it, tracing the prominent spine with his middle finger and edging as close to Draco as he could without their bodies touching. Harry dragged his hand up and down his back again and again, feeling as though he had stumbled across forbidden treasure and listening to the birds that rose early singing outside.

"What time is it?" Malfoy whispered suddenly, and Harry's hand stilled on his back.

"Late." Harry said quickly. "Early, actually."

"Mmm." Malfoy replied. Harry was trying to figure out how he could move away discreetly when Malfoy spoke. "Why've you stopped?"

"I...uh-"

"Did you think I was asleep?" Harry felt himself blush furiously, heat creeping over his skin. "Cute."

"Shut up." Harry snapped, snatching his hand away and shifting to the other side of the bed.

"Okay." Malfoy replied, yawning.

~X~

It was almost the afternoon when Harry woke again. He opened his eyes to see Charlie's wet nose in front of his face, sniffing him frantically. "Morning." Harry mumbled.

"Go away." came the waspish reply, and Harry almost had a heart attack before he remembered he was sharing his bed with Malfoy.

"I was talking to my dog." Harry growled back, stroking Charlie's head and swinging his legs off the bed as he sat upright. Charlie pawed at Harry's knees, a forlorn expression on his face. "No biscuits Charlie. They're bad for you." Harry hauled himself up and stretched, turning around to look at Malfoy as he did so. The boy was lying on his stomach with his face buried in Harry's pillow and his arms wrapped around his head. Smiling, Harry went to the kitchen, where he found the two mugs of coffee he'd prepared yesterday standing cold on the table. He threw them in the sink and put the kettle on, Charlie winding through his legs like a cat.

"Make it black!" called the groggy voice from his bedroom. _Malfoy in his bedroom_, Harry thought. Then he didn't think, because it was too weird. When he'd made them both coffees, he returned to his room, finding Malfoy in the same position, only with his hand outstretched to accept the drink. Harry placed it carefully in this hand.

"Sit up with that." Harry told him, taking his wand from the bedside table and flicking it lazily at the blinds, letting light pour into the room through the French doors as they opened. Malfoy complained, shifting around until he had his back against Harry's headboard. He sipped the coffee and looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry thought he looked rough, and still very much grey and underfed. "Why don't you eat something?" Harry asked. "I make good bacon."

"Why don't you shut up?" Harry rolled his eyes and took his phone out, scrabbling in his drawer for the scrap of parchment Dean had given him on Monday. He dialled the number and left the room, taking his coffee with him.

"Hello?" said a sprightly voice.

"Dean it's Harry."

"Harry! You're coming today aren't you? It starting somewhere around three." Dean proceeded to give Harry the name of the street, and told him to bring sustenance. This worried Harry greatly, as he'd had plenty of practice at cooking for the Dursley's, but he doubted he could make appetising party food to save his life.

"What sort of food are we talking about?" he asked, interrupting Dean's list of the sandwiches that would be present.

"Well we've got low cake numbers, but you can bake right?"

"Actually, I -"

"Great! Got to go Harry, my cousins want me to paint their faces. Remember it's a Muggle thing so no robes and wands, yeah? Bye!" He hung up, and Harry was left wondering where he was going to produce cakes from. He finished his coffee and put the mug in the sink, trudging back into his bedroom to find Malfoy with a scrap of parchment in his hand, examining a ball point pen from different angles.

"Where did you get those?" Harry demanded, sitting down on his bed.

"Your drawer." Malfoy replied simply. He held the pen out to Harry. "How do you work this monstrosity?"

Harry took it and clicked the end. "You went through my drawers?"

"Yes." Malfoy replied, snatching the pen back and scribbling on the parchment. "Don't worry. I didn't find anything too sordid." Harry scowled and watched Malfoy write. "What did I drink last night?" he asked, looking up at Harry.

"Beer." Harry replied. "Then lager, then tequila and I'm pretty sure you had a cocktail when you thought no one was looking."

"I'll leave out that part." Malfoy said, scratching away on his parchment. Harry tried to read what he'd written, but Malfoy tore off his notes and stowed them safely in his pocket. He clicked the pen a few times experimentally. "Can I keep this?" he asked.

"Go for it." Harry sighed, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes. "I don't suppose you know how to bake do you?"

"Do I know how to bake?" Malfoy scoffed, stowing the pen in his pocket along with his mystery notes. "I could bake you into nothingness."

"What?" Harry snorted, opening his eyes. "Where did you learn how to bake?" Malfoy tapped the side of his nose. Harry sighed, but feeling hopeful he added. "Will you help me bake some cakes? In exchange for those hideous pictures you took of me and that pen?"

"Baking with Potter." Malfoy drawled. "How could I resist?" Harry grinned. "On one condition!" Malfoy added quickly. "I get to use your shower." Harry shrugged in agreement, it seemed like a fair exchange to him.

~X~

"Well done Potter. I'm sure the Muggles will love egg shell cake." Malfoy bit later that afternoon when Harry had failed to crack his third egg.

"Do you have any idea how much you sound like Snape?" Harry snapped, scooping out the bits of shell from his mixture. "And I can't concentrate with you breathing down my neck." He was driving Harry wild with his barbed remarks and patronising snorts. It also didn't help that he'd emerged from Harry's bathroom smelling of his musky fennel shower gel with wet hair falling in his eyes.

Malfoy smacked Harry's hand away from the bowl and did it himself. "Go and fetch a wooden spoon you useless lump." he ordered, making Harry feel like Neville in the potions classroom. Except he was Harry in his own kitchen and Draco Malfoy was helping him bake cakes. What had the world come to?

"Malfoy?" said Harry, getting a wooden spoon he hadn't known existed from his cutlery drawer.

"What?"

"Where did you learn to make cakes the Muggle way?"

"No more questions." Malfoy replied, taking the spoon from Harry and stirring the mixture savagely.

Harry had only baked cakes once or twice in his life. They were times Dudley had demanded a cake baking session and he'd get as far as adding the flour before he'd get bored and impatient and go and watch TV. Harry would then be ordered to finish the job for his cousin's sake and present all of the cakes to Dudders, who'd devour them in ten minutes flat, occasionally leaving a half eaten one for Harry because there was no more room within him. The cakes had always been half risen and a complete failure, but Dudley was such a pig he'd never notice.

Seen as he wasn't allowed to ask questions, Harry stood and watched Malfoy stirring, wondering in which parallel universe Malfoy had learned to make Muggle cakes. Malfoy glanced at him, looking up from the bowl with a smudge of flour across his cheek. Harry smiled at the serious expression on his face as he held the mixing bowl. "You've got..." Harry began, reaching out his hand and thinking about all the stupid films he'd seen on TV.

He gently rubbed the flour away and Malfoy blinked, looking at Harry with a curious expression before stirring the bowl again, this time more forcefully and avoiding Harry's gaze. When Malfoy had finally deemed the mixture acceptable, he spooned it into paper cases they'd found at the back of Harry's cupboards. "If you don't bake Potter, where on earth did all of this paraphernalia come from – are these cookie cutters?"  
Harry squinted into the depths of the cupboard. "I think that was Hermione." he replied. "She wanted to make me feel at home."

"Well I'm glad someone around here's organised." Malfoy replied, heaving the stuff out of the cupboard. Harry watched Malfoy pushing the cakes into the oven on a baking tray, wondering if he really had just complimented Hermione. Malfoy made himself a glass of water and Harry watched him drink it, picking bits of cake mix off his hands as he did so. "Wash up." Malfoy ordered before leaving the room.

It was only fair, Harry thought, seen as he'd failed to be of much help anywhere else. He soaked the mixing bowl, but not before offering it to Charlie to lick. When he was done, he went in search of Malfoy, finding him knelt on the floor at Harry's bedside table looking at Harry's collection of pictures on the wall.

"God you're nosy." he sighed, plonking himself on the edge of his bed.

"Well you ask too many questions so we're even." Malfoy retorted. "I see you've put those pictures up."Harry had indeed put up all the pictures of Godric's Hollow that Malfoy had presented him with, and he nodded, watching them all move together in a row: thatched rooftops, golden and orange leaves, vivid meadows. Malfoy stood up and threw himself onto Harry's bed next to him, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the duvet.

"Malfoy?" Harry whispered, trailing his hand through blond hair that was still damp.

"Potter?"

"Do you want to come with me today?"

Malfoy snorted. "Do I want to come with you to Dean Thomas' Muggle tea party with all of your friends? I can't think of anything I'd want more."  
_I can, _Harry thought, falling back on the bed to lay with Malfoy. He sighed, shifting himself closer to him so he could see the side of his face. Harry thought it was a good job he had it pressed into the bed sheets because he might ended up kissing him in a fit of emotional instability, and that might cause all sorts of problems - and one of them might end up dead. Deciding not to spoil the moment, Harry just kept watching, daring only to reach out his hand to thread his fingers with Malfoy's, feeling a cold palm beneath his own clammy one. Much to Harry's relief, he didn't pull away, but let Harry slide their fingers together, though his hand remained quite limp.

It would only be a matter of time before they'd have to address the situation, and Harry really wasn't looking forward to it. Of all people, Malfoy would be the one to take the greatest delight in Harry's secret desires. So far however, he was apparently just going along with it. "Are you just going to lie there all day?" Harry asked him.

"It depends."

Harry edged closer, intrigued. "What does it depend on?"

Malfoy looked thoughtful and he opened his eyes and faced Harry, looking briefly startled at how close his face was. "On whether..." Malfoy's hand suddenly responded to Harry's and he clenched it. "Whether you're..." Harry guessed he'd have trouble speaking too if someone was gripping his hand as hard as he was Malfoy's. "Cakes." Malfoy said.

"Cakes?"

"Got to -" he mumbled as he sat up, pulling his hand away from Harry's and leaving the room. "Got to check them!" Harry didn't move, but remained lying on the bed, questioning if Malfoy liked him at all and wondering if – given the chance – could he really shag a boy? "Potter!" Malfoy called from his kitchen. "Look how clever I am!"

The cakes did look very good, and Harry suggested they try one to see if they tasted as nice as they looked. Malfoy swatted his hand away, ordering Harry to make up several batches of icing to make them pretty. "You could ice your signature on them and everyone will clamour to get one." Malfoy suggested later on with a smirk.

"Very funny." Harry retorted, trying his best to pipe butter cream neatly onto a cake without getting it over the sides.

"I've done one with your face on." Malfoy announced, holding up a cake for Harry to see.

"Why am I cock-eyed?" Harry demanded. "With my tongue sticking out like a dog?"

Malfoy held back a smile. "That's what you look like."

"Stop wasting cakes." Harry snapped, snatching the offensive cake from Malfoy and putting it aside.

When they'd finished, Harry found himself quite excited. The cakes were better than anything he'd ever be able to create again, unless Malfoy was helping of course. Okay, so Harry's cakes were slightly more lopsided than Malfoys, but Harry could always tell everyone he'd made them all himself. That was probably better than saying he'd made them with a Death Eater anyway. "Mine are better." Malfoy said kindly voicing Harry's thoughts.

"You want a gold star?"

"I wouldn't say no." Harry boxed up the goods, proud of his efforts as Malfoy watched him, nibbling a reject cake Harry had botched up. When Harry had finished, he checked his watch to find it was quarter to three, leaving him little time to shower. "I'll clean up this mess and go." Malfoy said quietly, wetting a cloth under the tap. Harry hesitated, dithering in the doorway. "Go on." he prompted, shooing Harry away.

Harry relented and the water was cool on his skin, rinsing away whatever hangover he might have had and awakening his tired skin. He turned his face up to downpour and ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. He'd leave it there. He hated shaving at the best of times and he'd never had much luck the magic way either. When his skin felt considerably cleaner and awake, he hopped out of the shower and wiped the steam from his glasses and putting them on. He did the same for his mirror, jumping as it spoke to him. "Your quaint little friend was in here earlier." it sighed dreamily, making Harry frown. "Very well endowed." Harry blushed, standing in front of it while he brushed his teeth, thinking of quaint and apparently well-endowed Malfoy...

When Harry had changed, he wandered back into the kitchen, pulling a red t shirt on and starting at the sight of Malfoy: sat at his kitchen table chewing his lip. He stood up when Harry entered, and Harry noticed that he didn't accuse Harry of indecent exposure this time. "You're still here." Harry said. "Are you coming with me?"

Malfoy approached him. "No...I just..." Harry waited, watching Malfoy draw increasingly closer. He stopped just before Harry and pulled down the t shirt that was hitched at Harry's side, his hand lingering on his abdomen. Harry felt his muscles flex at the touch. "They keep you busy in The Ministry?" Malfoy asked in a strange voice.

"Jogging. Mostly." Harry replied hoarsely.

Malfoy slipped his cold hand beneath Harry's t shirt and touched the muscles Harry was tensing beneath them. "Yeah." Malfoy nodded his eyes alive and connecting with Harry's. "Potter?"

"Malfoy?"

His voice almost a growl: "Did you think about me in the shower?"

Harry decided that if there was flirting and touching taking place, he wasn't going to miss out. Malfoy's hand was still tracing over the muscles beneath his shirt as Harry wound an arm around his waist and pulled him close. "I did." he replied, marvelling at how different Malfoy looked from this close angle. How much better. "How did you know?"

Looking every inch like the cat that got the cream with narrowed eyes and a devilish smirk, Malfoy leaned close. "You look at me like you want Me." he murmured. "I like it."

Somewhere between two and three seconds passed as Harry walked Malfoy backwards until he came into contact with the kitchen table. Their breaths came short and sharp but once Harry had him there, Malfoy gasped as their lips collided and his spare arm wound around Harry's neck, the other clenching at Harry's hip. His mouth was hot against Harry's and he kissed him searchingly. Harry didn't know what he was doing and his hands shook as he tried to place them everywhere at once: on Malfoy's hips, in his hair, his arse. As he did so, Malfoy hissed beneath his loud and forceful kisses and he pulled the t shirt Harry had only just put on, off again. Harry let him, breathing deeply when he had to break away from Malfoy to tug it off. He crashed their bodies together again, letting Malfoy run his hands over the muscles in his torso and his back as he tore open the front of Malfoy's denim shirt, moving his hands over a surprisingly flat and solid chest. Malfoy's kisses were moving rapidly downward and Harry almost lost control when Malfoy got on his knees.

"What are you doing?" Harry said breathlessly. "What are you...?" With a seemingly practised technique, Malfoy deftly undid the buttons on his jeans with one hand, the other tracing absent patterns on his hip. Harry let out a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a moan.

"You sound like that bloody dog of yours." Malfoy breathed, undoing the zip.

"Less talking." Harry gasped, winding his hand into Draco's cold hair. Malfoy dragged his tongue along the skin just above Harry's pants and Harry groaned so loudly he almost didn't hear the knock at the door. "Shit." he snapped as Malfoy hauled himself up, pressing his mouth against Harry's in a searing kiss. "Mmm – No." Harry grunted, pushing Malfoy away.

"Pretend you're not in." the blond hissed, pressing his hips into Harry's and making Harry sure he looked like the cross-eyed cupcake Malfoy had iced. The idea was so very sorely tempting that he put his hand on the top of Draco's head, trying to make him go back down and continue with the previous activity.

"Harry!" Ginny called from the other side of the door.

"Ha!" Malfoy hissed, ducking his head and grabbing Harry's wrists. "Is that Weaselette?"

Harry let out a very different sort of groan and he wrenched free of Malfoy's grasp. "Malfoy-" Harry began, only to find the boy's hand pressed against his mouth.

"Just be quiet." Malfoy whispered. "If you can."

Harry shook his head frantically. This was all wrong. The letterbox rattled and Harry winced.

"Harry!" called Seamus in his Irish twang, then his voice grew quieter as he turned to Ginny. "Maybe he's already there."

"I know he isn't." Ginny replied.

"Bitch." Malfoy hissed, his hand dipping into Harry's boxers.

Harry tore himself away with all the strength he could muster, gasping as they broke contact. "Malfoy..."

"I thought you liked me." Malfoy snarled his expression furious.

"I do! But I'm not doing this with my friends on the doorstep!" Malfoy looked away and before Harry could say anything else, he'd turned on the spot and vanished. "Shit." Harry said again.

"Harry, we can hear you!" Seamus called.

"Okay!" Harry shouted to them. "I'm coming!"

Well he had been.


	10. Ten

**TEN**

Harry found himself in a _very _bad mood when he turned up in Dean's street. He'd been faced with the choice of telling his friends he'd been about to engage in sexual relations with Draco Malfoy or let them believe he was a loser who was late arriving at a party because he'd been sat at home wanking. He chose the latter and withstood Ginny's curious glares and Seamus' giggly jokes. "Harry!" Dean cried when they arrived, and he rushed up to them. "Tell me they're cakes!" He gestured to the box Harry was holding and Harry nodded. "You're our saviour!" Dean groaned, opening the box to admire what was mostly Draco's handiwork. A swarm of Dean's cousin's crowded around them at the mention of food and very quickly, Harry's cakes were no more.

"I didn't know you could bake Harry!" Seamus cried, licking the icing from his fingers.

"He can't." Ginny murmured, smiling inquisitively in Harry's direction.

Harry shook his head dismissively and took in the scenery. Dean's street was long and straight and filled with rows of town houses with brightly coloured doors. Opposite the houses was a football playing field that stretched into the distance. Bunting was hung from lamp post to lamp post and a long table had been set out, covered with plates of various party foods. A gang of children, consisting mostly of Dean's cousins were running up and down the street with water guns, their faces painted as various creatures. Dean's mother: a big woman with glamorous hair was pouring lemonade at the table, warning the children not to soak the food. "Come on." Seamus said to Harry, gesturing for him to follow.

Ginny and Harry trailed after him to the side of the street and they clambered over a wooden fence into the deserted playing field where a knot of people were sat on a picnic cloth.

"Hi Harry."

"Harry, you made it!"

Luna and Neville called to him happily, making room for everyone on the large blanket. Harry sat next to Luna who had a paint set on her lap, drawing Native Indian war stripes on Seamus' fiancé, Andrew's face. "Look at me Shay!" he grinned.

"Gorgeous." Seamus replied, sitting next to him and kissing his neck.

"It's the first time he's worn Muggle clothes." Neville pointed out as he cut a Victoria sponge into quarters.

Andrew was wearing three-quarter length shorts like Seamus and a blue shirt, turned up at the sleeves. "They like to show a bit of flesh, Muggles." said Andrew, fiddling with the hem of his shorts.

Neville handed Harry a slice of cake and Harry ate it quickly, trying his best to ignore the way Ginny was looking at him. When they'd finished, Luna painted another flower on Ginny's cheek as Seamus, Neville and Andrew went in search of Dean to start a game of football.

"I'm going to fetch some lemonade." Luna said after finishing the lilac petals on Ginny's pale skin.

She closed her paint set and stood up, wandering back to the hubbub on the street. Harry was left looking at the flower on Ginny's face, waiting for some sort of lecture.

"Those cakes were nice weren't they, Harry?" Ginny said, tucking a strand of scarlet hair behind her ear and stacking the plates.

"Yeah." Harry replied.

"You didn't make them did you?"

"I – uh, bought them."

"No you didn't." Harry laughed nervously, wondering where Ginny was going with this and whether she'd somehow found him out. Ginny stacked the plates back in the wicker basket and turned to look at Harry with a serious expression. "Harry, I've been thinking...you have a new girlfriend don't you?"

"No I don't." Harry snapped.

"A boyfriend? Oh my God we knew it! I didn't want to believe it but we'd seen the signs and-"

Harry felt his blood begin to boil. "Who's _we_?"

"No. It's just..." Ginny said quickly. "Me and Hermione thought it was-"

"That's it." Harry snapped, standing up. "I've had it. I'm fed up with you two."

Ginny got up hurriedly, trying to grab his arm. "Harry stop! We weren't-"

Harry wrenched himself away from her, almost tripping over the picnic basket in his haste. "First I have emotional problems, and then I'm gay! Is there anything else I might be?"

"Harry, I know you were with someone earlier. I just know. It was either a boy or a girl – And I really don't care either way as long as you're happy."

Harry stopped, breathing deeply as he shifted his gaze to the street in the distance where the boys had found Dean and all four were hopping over the fence, a football under Dean's arm. "Okay so maybe I was with someone," Harry murmured, his voice low. "But it doesn't matter and it's not important."

"Really?" Ginny asked firmly. "Because you've got that look in your eye Harry. The guilty, maddened one you get when you just can't let something go."

"What?" Harry scoffed.

"Oh don't play dumb Harry. You wore that look all through sixth year when you were alternating your obsessions between that _'fragile binding'_ Potions book and Malfoy." Harry felt his cheeks redden at the mention of Malfoy's name and wondered if he really was that transparent. "Whatever." Ginny continued folding her arms. "You don't have to tell me but you'll cock up sooner or later and it'll be more fool you for keeping secrets. Again."

"Leave it, Ginny." Harry sighed. "I'm old enough to take care of myself." Ginny scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You playing Harry?" Dean asked as he passed them.

"No, I'll play the next game." Harry sighed, scowling at Ginny.

"I'm playing." Ginny said as Harry sat back down heavily on the picnic rug, and then she stopped suddenly, as though a thought had just occurred to her. She squatted for a moment on the pretence of tying her laces and dipped her head towards Harry. "It's Malfoy isn't it?" she whispered in a low voice. Harry's face must have said it all. "I mean...he's dressing weirdly and I've heard rumours he was seen with a Muggle looking boy a year ago. But I saw you on Monday, Harry - by the lake, the way you looked at him." Harry couldn't believe his ears. How on earth had Ginny figured this out? She glanced around, making sure the boys were still setting up teams and explaining the rules of the game to Neville and Andrew. "You know," she sighed sadly. "Ron and Hermione only ever saw him as a brat in school." she continued, a sad smile on her lips. "But honestly, he took up so much of your attention that I saw him as a threat."

"Ginny, I don't want to talk about it." Harry whispered. And he really didn't.

"Fine." she replied, standing up. "All I'm trying to figure out is where on earth Draco Malfoy learnt to bake." Then she sauntered towards the boys to referee.

~X~

Harry had smoked three cigarettes by the time Luna had returned with a jug of lemonade and a stack of glasses. She sat next to Harry, a sunflower tucked in her flowing hair. "You know, it's probably not so much the nicotine you're addicted to Harry, but the act of smoking itself." she said airily, opening her paint set. "Hermione told me that. She's awfully clever isn't she? If only a little close-minded."

"Mm." Harry replied, blowing a smoke ring into the air and hating Malfoy for leaving him and Ginny for figuring out his worst kept secret.

"Can I paint on you?" Luna asked simply, dipping her brush in the red.

"Be my guest." Harry sighed. Luna began to paint what felt suspiciously like a flower on his cheek above the stubble. Harry wasn't really bothered, if the secret was out that he was a raging homosexual he might as well embrace the whole thing. Luna's company was easy anyway. Harry had always found her quiet and reflective, offering words of obscure wisdom now and then that amused Harry and often intrigued him. "What do you do now Luna?" Harry asked her, closing his eyes in the late afternoon sun.

"I run the Quibbler mostly." She replied. "But I do a lot of painting as a hobby. I think a picture really is worth a thousand words. Don't you?" Harry made a small noise of agreement, thinking about how many thousands of words Malfoy might have had to say if he hadn't been able to reel Harry in with his picture of Godric's Hollow. "What about you?" Luna retorted, cleaning her brush and dipping it in the yellow.

"I'm an Auror aren't I?" Harry replied. Didn't everyone know that by now?

"And you like it?"

"Yes." Harry said quickly.

"That's good." Luna smiled, finishing the flower and closing her paint set again. She held up a tiny mirror so Harry could admire the beautiful red and yellow flower she'd adorned on his face.

"Thanks Luna." Harry said quietly.

"Come on Potter! We need a goalie!" Seamus cried, gesticulating to him wildly from the football pitch.

Harry joined Seamus and Andrew's team as their goal keeper and Ginny joined Dean and Neville's as their striker. This left Harry with the unsettling thought that it was 'Gay VS Straight' and he almost missed the ball Ginny booted towards the net. "Wake up boy!" Andrew called, hopping up and down with excitement. Harry was a good goalkeeper, though he felt football was nothing in comparison to Quidditch. By the time Dean (who played ridiculously well) had won with his team by 5-3, Neville had demanded to have the offside rule explained to him.

"Aw no!" Seamus cried, wrapping his arms around Andrew's middle from behind. "Don't get him started!" He broke away with Harry to get some lemonade as Dean began a lengthy explanation of the rule to the clueless Purebloods. "The amount of times I heard that in our dorm Harry." Seamus groaned, rolling his eyes. "Bla bla bla." Harry laughed, remembering the heated discussions that went on involving Quidditch and football and all the rules in between. They clinked their glasses of lemonade together, watching Luna in the shade of a nearby tree as she painted a girl's face to look like a unicorn. A small queue of children had formed, waiting to have their faces painted by the mysterious sunflower girl.

"Seamus?" Harry began, feeling bold.

"Yeah?"

"How long...how long have you known you were..."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Oh the amount of times I've heard this one." he tutted. "I didn't Harry. I didn't know until I found Andrew. I just thought I was shit with girls up to then, you know?" Harry nodded, it sounded horrifically familiar. "It's not so much about being gay." Seamus continued, watching as Andrew fiddled with the hem of his shorts again, not really listening to Dean's fervent explanation. "It was about finding someone who was so right for me, and he just happened to be a man." Harry buried his face in his hands before he could stop himself, groaning inwardly. "I'm guessing I haven't moved you to tears." Seamus said in a more serious voice. "I'm guessing you asked for a reason." Great. It must have been national out yourself day and Harry was really screwing up. "Harry mate," Seamus grinned. "Save the sexual identity crisis and go with it! I promise you it's worth it if you really feel that attraction." Harry looked down at the grass, hoping he'd somehow never gotten out of bed on Thursday morning and this had all been a bizarre dream. "And the sex is far better than everyone makes out-"

"Seamus!" Harry cried, scandalised. Seamus laughed, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulder. "I wish you'd had this revelation sooner Harry. Hogwarts would have been twice as enjoyable if you know what I mean!"

~X~

When the sun was beginning to set, a wonderful atmosphere overcame Harry and his friends, and they all lay together in a row on the picnic blanket, watching the sky change colour above them. Seamus sang them a filthy song and they all cried with laughter, the blanket a mass of hysterical bodies. "Thanks for coming today." Dean sighed, sitting up and watching Neville try to plait Luna's hair, his cheeks pink as she calmly guided him.

"No problem, mate." Seamus replied. "We had a great time, didn't we And?"

Andrew giggled. "Yeah, but I'm still not one hundred percent on the offside rule-"

"Oh Merlin, we're going!" Seamus cried, standing up and grabbing Andrew's hands, pulling him off the rug.

"I'd better be going too, Dean. George doesn't like to be in the house by himself for too long. Thanks for having us." Ginny sighed, pulling Harry up with her. "Harry's going as well, aren't you?"

"If you say so." Harry grunted, hoisting himself up and shaking Dean's hand. The four of them walked back into the street together, stopping to talk to Mrs. Thomas as they clambered over the fence.

"See her," She said to them, pointing to a dark girl with bright red hair down to her knees who was doing the limbo with her friends. "Love of Dean's life. Don't you go telling him I said nothing! He's smitten!" Harry grinned and Ginny linked her arm in his, pulling him away around the corner out of sight. They hugged Seamus and Andrew goodbye, Seamus lowering his voice to whisper in Harry's ear.

"Fantastic sex Harry." he murmured. "Fantastic."

Harry blushed, watching them Apparate together and ignoring Ginny's quizzical glance. Ginny Apparated to his flat with him, and she pushed him inside. "Just because we're not playing our love games any more Harry, it doesn't mean I'm not here for you okay?" she said in shaky voice. Harry nodded, smiling at her. "Good." she sniffed, hugging him quickly and Apparating. He suspected she was about to cry, and there was no was she'd do it in front of him.

Harry fussed Charlie who was delighted that he'd returned and tried to leap into Harry's open arms. Then, feeling slightly lost within himself, Harry clipped Charlie's lead on and went for a jog in the park. The sky was rich in the evening as Harry made his way around the track, Charlie bounding in his wake. The air filled his lungs, making him feel alert and simply more conscious of the fact that he'd more or less outed himself to two of his friends when he wasn't even sure if he was gay. It was typical of him really, rushing headlong into things.

When he got home, he fed Charlie and drank a glass of water in the kitchen, looking at the cake Malfoy had iced his face on that had been left behind in all the excitement. His gaze drifted to the kitchen table and he pondered for a moment, thinking about what might have happened if he hadn't answered the door...

It wasn't like it would never happen again - as long as Malfoy could forgive him. It didn't have to mean anything either. Now they'd grown up a little bit and left the past behind them, who was to say he couldn't sleep with Malfoy and leave it at that? With this rather attractive idea in mind, Harry wandered into the bedroom, finding what he had expected to: Malfoy's black converse trainers still laying discarded on his carpeted floor. He picked them up and carried them to the kitchen where he collected the unsightly cake version of himself before Apparating outside the glass apartment building.

Harry laughed to himself as he rose alone in the lift. He must have looked ridiculous standing there with a pair of shoes and a cupcake, a flower painted on his face. He probably resembled some sort of free-loving hippy type. When the lift stopped with a lurch and the doors opened, Harry stopped laughing, his amusement giving way to sickening nerves. He wasn't exactly practised in the art of one night stands. Or sex, come to think of it. Especially not sex with boys.

After tapping on the door, Harry shifted on the spot, wishing he'd had a cigarette before he'd decided to take Malfoy on again. The door was pulled open and Malfoy stood looking at him, his eyes shadowy and harsh. He was wearing a low necked, white t shirt, leaving Harry's eyes to wander over his collarbones. More surprisingly, he had donned a leather jacket and jeans so tight they made Harry's throat dry. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, waiting for Harry to speak. "Your shoes." Harry said suddenly, handing Malfoy his converses.

He accepted them, taking them into his apartment and putting them on as he sat on his cream sofa. "Are you coming in, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, and Harry did, shutting the door behind him. He sat next to Malfoy, presenting the cake to him and watching him accept and eat it quickly.

"You're actually eating then." Harry said, blinking in surprise as the cake vanished and Malfoy licked his lips, then his fingers. Oh Wizarding hotness...

"I can't afford to go out drinking on an empty stomach again." Malfoy replied.

"You're going out?"

"Yes." he smirked. "Are you?" Harry blinked as Malfoy stood up and wandered into the kitchen. "You might have to wipe that flower off your face first. People will think you're on drugs."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, quickly rubbing the paint from his face with a cloth Malfoy presented him with.

"C_lubbing_." Malfoy drawled with the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Muggle style."


	11. Eleven

This is my favourite chapter and anyone wanting further information on the revelations made need only ask - I spent enough time dweling over them.**  
**

_MissSnakeyBoots_**  
**

* * *

You're my favourite daydream  
I'm your famous nightmare  
Everything I see looks like gold  
Everything I touch goes cold  
Castles in the snow

_Twin Shadow - Castles In The Snow_

* * *

**ELEVEN**

Never mind people _thinking_ he was on drugs, Harry felt like he actually _was_ as he entered a club with Malfoy, who showed no signs of picking up where they'd left off earlier, though he'd occasionally brush his hand against Harry's as they walked down the street in the evening air. Harry stole glances at him when he could, biting his lip and wondering if they were both absolutely crackers in their own right. When they'd pushed their way into a rather leery looking club, Malfoy grasped Harry's arm and pulled him into the middle of the dance floor.

"I can't dance." Harry spluttered over the electronic symphony of music, trying valiantly to escape. "Really I can't." Malfoy laughed at him and leaned close; using the few inches he had on Harry to his advantage. Harry dipped his head and took the opportunity to look around, taking in the sight of colourful people and explosive fashion. There were girls of all sizes in pastel colours with tattoos snaking up their limbs and piercings on their faces. The men were just as colourful, draped with jewellery in elaborate feather jackets, making them look like fantastical birds. It was hard to tell who was what gender in the dark with all the androgynous styles and made up faces. Harry didn't think he had seen so much leather and hair dye and attitude in all his life. How boring he must look to them in his jeans and a t shirt he couldn't even remember the colour of.

He was quickly reminded of his companion's presence when he felt Malfoy's mouth on his neck, kissing his skin playfully. Harry almost snorted at the realisation that Malfoy was part of this scene. "I know you can't dance." said a voice in his ear before it dipped to kiss his skin again. "I saw you at the Yule Ball."

"Something tells me they don't dance like that here anyway." Harry replied in Malfoy's ear, wondering if he should be kissing him back. Malfoy laughed and the hands that had been on his waist wandered downwards, coming to rest on Harry's arse. Harry almost giggled.

"Don't grin like that." Malfoy scolded him as he lined up their gazes. Harry nodded and tried to look as fierce as Malfoy, lowering his hands to get in on the groping fun that was taking place at his own rear end. "No one dances here anyway," Malfoy whispered, leaning close to his ear again. "It's more like sex with clothes on." This time Harry couldn't help but laugh and Malfoy scowled in the strobe lighting, pulling Harry close to him. "I'm starting to wonder why I ever wanted to shag you, Potter."

"You want to shag me?" Harry replied before he could help himself. He heard Malfoy's snort of disdain, even over the heavy music.

"Oh no, of course not Potter, this is just what friends do." He retorted, squeezing one of Harry's arse cheeks. "We're friends now aren't we?"

"The very best." Harry shot back as Malfoy pressed his hips into him. Then he regretted it and felt the slightest hint of ridiculous betrayal towards Hermione and Ron.

"Good." said Malfoy, and he grabbed Harry's hand and stalked towards the bar. Harry took some time to catch his breath, listening vaguely to Malfoy's drawling requests for something _fun_. It seemed like he knew whoever was behind the bar, which almost certainly made him a regular. Harry blinked at the bottle of fruity something-or-other that was placed in front of him, and he sipped it gingerly, finding it to taste rather nice. Malfoy sipped his own and set it down before turning to lean against the bar, watching the people on the dance floor with a vaguely interested expression. Harry put his own drink down and did the same, watching him avidly in the shimmering lights of the club.

"You come here often?" he said before he realised it was a terribly over-used pick up line. Malfoy smirked and played along, turning to face him.

"I used to." he sighed. "Why, do you want my number?"

"I've already got it." Harry laughed.

"Do you want a kiss then, stranger?" Harry nodded as Malfoy leaned towards him and kissed him in the glittering darkness. Harry closed his eyes, indulging in the heat of Malfoy's mouth for a while. A song was playing with a heavy bass that thrummed through Harry's body, and he broke away and leaned past Malfoy, reaching behind him for his drink

"It's a bit weird in here, isn't it?" Harry whispered in his ear.

"Quite." he replied, before tutting. "Potter that was my bottle you just drank from."

Harry shrugged, feeling brazen. "Well you almost sucked my dick so I don't think it matters." Malfoy looked at him with a horrified expression on his face and Harry tried to think what on earth had made him say such a thing. He couldn't really think at all however, and he might have been just as horrified as Malfoy, but the only feeling he seemed to be able to harbour was an odd wooziness. "How strong is this stuff?" Harry asked, sipping from the bottle again, his voice sounding far away from the pounding music that sounded so very good. He set the bottle down and pulled Malfoy onto the dance floor, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"It wasn't even alcoholic." Malfoy said in a faraway voice, his hands on Harry's shoulders.

The song was changing into another with more of a beat that resounded in Harry's ears. "This is magical." Harry said in Malfoy's ear, listening to the woman singing. "What's she telling me to do?"

"I think she's telling you to 'get down and dirty'." Malfoy replied crisply, his voice echoing off Harry's mind walls. He closed his eyes to listen to it. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he heard Malfoy snap.

Harry ignored him and let go of his waist. He wasn't being very friendly today thank you very much. He listened to the singing woman but he couldn't quite make out what she was warbling on about, she was too far away. Instead, he spun slowly in a circle, watching all the writhing strangers blur into a coloured wheel around him. The next thing he knew, someone had grabbed his wrist and led him to a dingy bathroom that seemed to sway around him like a ship.

"I like you" Harry whispered to the blond shape he presumed was Malfoy in the room that was somehow so much quieter than the dance floor. He gasped suddenly as his face was splashed with cold water and Malfoy's furious face stood before him.

"I like you too, funnily enough. And I don't fancy seeing you getting raped in an alleyway by some sordid creep."

"What?" Harry snapped.

"Someone put something in my drink." Malfoy explained as Harry rubbed his face with his t shirt. "Then you went and drank it like the moron you are, but something tells me anyone who has to resort to drugging people for sex isn't going to be too fussy."

Harry groaned, the room still moving slightly. "This is why I never go out." he muttered. Malfoy leaned his face close to Harry's and pressed their foreheads together, making Harry feel as though he was drowning in a sea of silver as he looked into his eyes. Malfoy pressed a soft kiss against his mouth, his hands firm on the back of Harry's neck and the base of his spine.

"Do you think we could break the stereotype and _not_ do this in the bathroom?" he whispered. Harry nodded and let Malfoy pull him out of the grimy room and through the club towards the doors again like a steam train, winding through the crowds. Then Malfoy stopped and Harry bumped into him, the room starting to spin again as they stood on the edge of the dance floor.

"Why have we stopped?" Harry asked blankly.

"We have to go back." Malfoy said quickly, his features flashing with fear in the lights as he turned to Harry. "Potter, move!"

"What?" Harry said as Malfoy tried to push him back the way he came.

"Go back! Move! Oh for-" Malfoy hissed, breaking away from Harry and - once again - disappearing skilfully into the crowd.

"Harry Potter!" someone called in a lavishly thick voice and a handsome, baby-face appeared before him, grinning. "I am behaving today, I swear to you." Harry suddenly recognised him as Edvard Kovachev, the Durmstrung who'd been fighting outside the train station on Friday. He was quickly flanked by the two friends he'd been with: the girl with pink hair and piercings and the man with shoulder-length dreadlocks and a beard.

"Hello!" the girl grinned, wearing in a dress almost as neon pink as her hair and an aquamarine, mohair cardigan. "What brings you to a place like this?"

"I've lost someone." Harry replied simply, feeling as though he was being crushed in a swarm of people. "Someone drugged me and now I've lost him."

The girl exchanged a glance with the bearded man who Harry was quite sure had been called Steven. "Who've you lost sweetie?" she asked him, looking sympathetic.

"Malfoy. I lost Draco Malfoy."

The girl exchanged another, even more concerned glance with the boy who was possibly Steven. Edvard laughed darkly, showing white, shark-like teeth. "I'll find you your Malfoy." he said. "Take him outside Cherry."

"Ed." the girl called Cherry called warningly as Edvard moved away into the crowds. "Be _careful_. Please" He laughed again before disappearing and Harry felt a firm grip on him as he was pulled away from the pressing crowds and thundering music, out into the open night air and around the corner where the music sounded as though it was trapped in a distant trunk.

"He knows what Malfoy looks like doesn't he?" Harry asked, feeling he should have given a description.

_Lost: A blond, angry shape in a leather jacket with a scathing voice._

Ed nodded solemnly and Cherry spoke. "Here." she said, handing him a cigarette that didn't really smell like a cigarette. Harry accepted it anyway and took a drag, a voice in his head telling him several things weren't right with the past few minutes. As soon as he'd taken in the smoke, he felt himself grow even calmer and he became fascinated by the silver piercings all over Cherry's face. "That club's notorious, darling." she said to him as Steven nodded next to her, taking the joint from Harry and smoking it himself. "Someone must have really wanted to hurt you."

"It was Malfoy's drink." Harry said, backing up to press himself against the wall, just to be sure of his surrounding's consistency.

"I'm not surprised." Cherry replied. "It's happened to him before."

Harry wasn't entirely sure what was going on and how these people knew Malfoy, so he took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. Cherry and Steven didn't seem to mind, and they stood together in silence, watching the doors and taking it in turns to smoke the joint that filled Harry's senses with its fruity smoke. Harry was just noticing the soft, sleepy colour of the street lamps through the slits of his half-lidded eyes when Malfoy emerged from the door, Edvard's hand on his shoulder as he guided him over to where they were stood.

"Draco!" Cherry cried as Malfoy pulled himself out of Edvard's grasp. She threw her arms around him and Malfoy hugged her tightly back, his eyes looking sorrowful. When he broke away, Steven shook his hand with vigour, remaining quite silent but grinning broadly. Edvard approached Malfoy with his marauding grin, walking with his shoulders and his barrelled chest. Malfoy tripped backwards, pressing his back into Harry who wrapped an arm around his waist idly, thinking lazily about how much he wanted him and how gorgeous he was.

"Long time no see, Draco." Edvard grinned with his shark's smile, accepting the joint from Steven and putting it in his mouth. Malfoy nodded, avoiding his gaze. Cherry was wringing her hands anxiously and Steven cracked his knuckles, shifting restlessly on his feet.

"We have to go now, don't we Potter?" Malfoy said in a wobbly voice, his hand seeking out Harry's and gripping it tightly.

"No!" Edvard grinned somewhat firmly. "We were going to play cards at yours, weren't we Cherry?" Cherry nodded slowly, her brow furrowed, and Malfoy shook his head, turning to look at Harry pleadingly. Harry smiled back at him absently, running his hands through Malfoy's soft hair.

"Your boyfriend's high as a kite, Draco." Edvard laughed, taking out a lighter to relight the joint. "Out of it." He held the lit lighter near Draco's face, letting the flame dance close to Malfoy's features as he stood frozen, watching it. Something most definitely wasn't right in Harry's opinion, and if there was one thing he was sure of - other than how wonderfully soft Draco's hair was - it was that fire was dangerous. He caught hold of Edvard's wrist and pushed it away from Draco's face.

"Whoa!" Edvard cried suddenly, eyes pooling black like they'd been filled with ink. "Calm down Harry Potter!"

"Potter, we're going." Malfoy murmured urgently, his fingernails digging into Harry's palm.

"Stop talking, Draco." Edvard said, his expression suddenly stormy. "Stop talking or I'll make you stop."

"Ed..." Cherry said quietly.

Harry felt as though he was three steps behind everyone else, and the pavement was still swimming beneath him. "You think you're a tough man Harry Potter?" Edvard began, advancing towards him, his eyes flashing. "Winner of the tournament? An Auror? Big man laying his hands on me?" Harry blinked in confusion, feeling as though he was missing something important. He'd never really seen himself as a _big man _and he certainly didn't remember laying his hands on anyone. Edvard pushed his shoulder roughly and Malfoy leapt forward.

"We're going. Potter, we're-"

"I told you to stop!" Edvard snapped and his hand lashed out, slapping Malfoy hard across the face, the sound harsh in the darkness. Cherry screamed, Steven tried to grab hold of Edvard and Malfoy stood breathing deeply on the pavement, his hand obscuring his expression. Harry moved forward with intent just as Edvard broke free of Steven's clutches. Try as he might, Harry couldn't react fast enough, and Edvard: fuelled by some cold-blooded emotion, his pearly grin transformed into a terrifying leer, hit his face over and over until he blacked out.

~X~

When Harry came too, he was propped against the brick wall with Cherry squatted next to him. He peered around, bringing his hand up to touch his tender face. Malfoy was sat on the kerb, his face buried in his hands and Edvard was sat next to him, sweeping blond hair behind his ear and whispering desperately to him. Harry's vision focussed on the hand Edvard had placed on Draco's thigh and the way Draco cringed away from him. He tried to sit up quickly but Steven, who was bent down on his other side, pushed him back.

"You need to leave with Draco as soon as you can without making Ed angry." Cherry hissed her eyes tearful. "I'm so, so sorry, darling. We never thought we'd have to do this again." Harry shook his head and stood up, trying to keep his surroundings from spinning.

"Draco." he said, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Malfoy was there, his cold hands on Harry's face as he touched the bruises. Edvard floated in the background, his eyes glassy and his attitude ridiculously placid.

"I apologise-"

"Fucking save it." Harry snapped, taking Draco by the hand and striding down the street, his feet barely able to walk in a straight line.

"I offer you an apology!" Edvard roared in his heavy Bulgarian accent.

"Ed! Calm down!" Cherry shrieked and Harry heard a scuffle in the background as they tried to hold him back.

"My flat Draco." Harry said quietly, holding his head. "We need to go home." Malfoy nodded hurriedly and spun on the spot, his hand holding Harry's as they Apparated outside Harry's front door in peaceful suburban silence. Malfoy dug in Harry's pocket for his key and let them in, guiding Harry into his living room and shushing a yapping Charlie, nervous at the smell of blood. He pushed him onto the sofa and disappeared, leaving Harry to breathe deeply in his living room, Charlie's head rested on his knee with concern as the room finally stopped spinning.

Malfoy reappeared with warm water and a cloth and he dabbed at the cut on Harry's head. "I could have fixed this with my wand." Malfoy began, his lip trembling. "But I don't have it with me." He pressed his face into Harry's shoulder, squeezing the cloth so tightly the water dripped all over Harry's jeans. Malfoy made a furious noise into Harry's t shirt and Harry rested a hand on his back.

"Who's Edvard, Draco?" Malfoy pulled away, his expression hardy as he left the room. Harry heard him rattling around in his bathroom cabinet until he returned with the Dittany. He sat on the sofa again, and Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly while Draco dropped it on his wounds. Harry took the sting without fuss, his hand seeking out any part of Draco he could and finding his leg which he gripped tightly. "Tell me."

"He was a Durmstrung. Sat at the Slytherin table after arriving in fourth year." he replied flatly. "He followed me around Hogwarts making stupid jokes." Draco stopped talking and dabbed the cut on Harry's face, only continuing when Harry squeezed his leg. "Went back with him, to the Durmstrung ship, in the middle of The Yule Ball because I wanted to look inside." Harry listened quietly, keeping his eyes shut as Draco healed his face. "He showed me around the whole thing. It was deserted because everyone was at the ball." He stopped talking again, rubbing Harry's cheekbone absent-mindedly and breathing raggedly. Harry squeezed his leg to urge him onwards once more. "He took me to his cabin. Kissed me so hard that my lips bled, and took my virginity against the wall."

"Shit Draco, he must have been seventeen and you were what – fourteen? You were too young!" Harry cried, his eyes snapping open.

"Shut up." Malfoy hissed with familiar contempt. "I wanted it so you can shut up." Harry fell silent, his stomach twisting in disgust and he stared at the carpet in front of him, his grip on Draco's leg tightening. "We did it once more before he left," Draco said, his eyes closing as he remembered. "And I visited him in the summer of fourth year and fifth year in Bulgaria. In sixth year, he'd moved here to work so he visited the manor."

"What did he do?"

"He made deliveries for the apothecary in Knockturn Alley. He earned next to nothing so I paid for all of his things and he'd hit me when I was being 'difficult' or he'd fuck me too hard and tell me I liked it like that."

"Why did you stay with him?" Harry demanded, tightening his grip on Draco's leg so much that Draco had to peel his hand off and take it in his own.  
"I'm used to being told what to do." he shrugged. "And I'd lost a lot of confidence. Then the war happened and I came out of Azkaban a real nobody because my father was in St Mungo's and I didn't know who I should be or what I should do because no one was there to dictate it to me." Harry squeezed Draco's hand, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing, and the fact he was hearing it at all. "So it was me and Ed and his friends: Cherry and Steven, who in turn, became my friends. Cherry taught me how to bake and she'd buy me Muggle clothes. Steven liked The Beatles. He would always stick up for me."

"They were good friends." Harry said.

"Yes. Probably the first true friends I ever had in my life." Draco scoffed. Harry felt him harden, not wanting to open up any more. He traced his thumb along the back of his hand, willing him onwards. "One day we all went to Paris when I still wasn't supposed to. I got into a lot of trouble. But going there made me realise there was a world beyond my manor and sharing my fucking bed with Edvard." Draco took a deep breath and a defiant smile appeared on his lips. "I talked my way out of trouble, paid a fine and swore I'd stay in the country. I came home, just that little bit too arrogant for Ed's liking and he hit me, then told me he was sorry and he'd make love to me to put it right. By this time, Cherry had taught me how to use an old camera we'd found in an antique shop and Steven gave me that rucksack."

"What did you do?" Harry asked his lip curling in disgust at the thought of the creep.

"I told him to go fuck himself and I said I was leaving and I wasn't coming back."

"Did he freak out?" Harry asked.

"Obviously. That was the thing with Ed - He was like a Dementor: for as long as I was miserable and reliant on him, he loved me. The minute I was some kind of threat, he'd lose it."

"So you just left."

"I Apparated and I never came back. I sent word to my house elves and told them to kick Ed out, then I got that stupid apartment because it was better than living in my Manor with Ed. I found work at The Prophet." he sighed. "The rest, as they say, is history." Harry breathed out slowly, taking it all in.

"That's all my questions answered then." he sighed. "Except..."

"Except?"

"Why are you making stupid notes all the time?" Draco stood up and took his leather jacket off, tossing it on the sofa. He smiled and wandered over to the mantel piece, peering again at the ceramic cottages Harry collected.

"The article The Prophet Editor gave me," he said, walking up to the record player and pushing the needle onto the record. "Make this work." Harry stood up and put it on, wrapping his arms around Draco from behind as The Beatles began to play and John Lennon sang the opening bars to All You Need Is Love.

"_There's nothing you can do that can't be done/_

_There's nothing you can sing that can't be sung_."

"It was on Muggle Britain." Malfoy continued, leaning back into Harry and swaying with him. "They thought it was hysterical."

"Well, you're hardly an expert on all things Muggle." Harry agreed. "When is it due?"

"Monday night."

Harry spun Draco around, slinking his arms around his waist and dancing him slowly around the room. "I'll help you." he offered as Draco wound his arms around Harry's neck.

"You already have - without knowing." he replied, smirking. "But thank you all the same, Potter." John Lennon reached the end of the chorus and Harry pressed a kiss against the tender skin on Draco's neck.

"_All you need is love, love/_

_Love is all you need."_

"When did this happen?" Draco asked, running his hands through Harry's hair. "You and I?"

"Oh shut up, Malfoy." Harry sighed. "Probably the minute we met. It's just taking a while to actually _get_ somewhere. Know what I mean?" He lowered his hands to cradle Draco's arse, pushing their hips together. Draco made a noise of approval and pressed his lips against Harry's, kissing him hot and slow, his hands moving down over Harry's shoulders.

"Where do you want me?" Malfoy hissed in his ear, writhing against him.

Harry groaned. "Out of those jeans."

"Well they're bloody tight, but if you can get them off then I'm yours." Malfoy retorted. Harry lifted Draco off the ground and tipped him onto the sofa, struggling to undo the buttons as the blond kicked his legs.

"I thought you wanted this." Harry breathed, trying to hold Draco's legs still.

"I've set you a challenge Potter" he smirked. "I'm not going to make it easy." With that, he stood up and fled from the room, Harry hot on his heels as he ran into his bedroom. Harry shut the door on Charlie who tried to follow, thinking an exciting game of chase was taking place. Wrestling Draco onto his bed, Harry crashed their lips together, silencing Malfoy's curious laugh. Harry pinned Draco to the mattress to try to keep him from squirming, he trailed his hand through the other boy's hair and dragged it down his side, sliding it beneath his t shirt to explore the possibilities beneath. Draco arched into his touch and clasped Harry's face, sliding his thumb along the stubbly jaw and biting Harry's lower lip.

"Move up." Harry ordered and Draco wriggled onto the bed, Harry straddling him to keep him from running off again.

"Mr. Muscle." Draco drawled as Harry tore his t shirt off.

"Stop being a prat." Harry breathed, trying to take the t shirt off Draco's writhing form. When he finally succeeded, he traced his fingers over the ribs that were almost on show, making Draco shiver beneath his touch.

"I know I don't eat enough." Draco snapped as Harry opened his mouth. "But I swear I'll eat a pie for every time you make me come."

_Let there be many pies_, Harry thought hopefully as he bent down to kiss Draco again, moving his tongue against Draco's own cutting one and groaning into his mouth as Draco lifted his hips. Harry was just considering the fastest way to get Malfoy out of his jeans when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

"No way." Malfoy snapped. "Ignore it."

"I am, I am." Harry replied, unzipping Draco's jeans and pulling them. Draco kicked them off, all the while Harry's phone vibrated. Harry kept ignoring it and he stuck his knee between Draco's thighs, his hands on the waistband of Draco's pants.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy demanded. "_I'm_ topping."

"What's that? You fuck me?" Harry laughed scornfully. "I don't think so."

Malfoy tipped Harry over onto his back with surprising strength. "When's the last time you fucked a boy Potter?"

Harry pushed Malfoy off him, trying to get him to lie down. Malfoy was having none of it, and he pressed his erection into Harry's side. Harry gasped. "You're not putting _that_ up-"

"I know what I'm doing! I'm in charge!" Malfoy declared petulantly.

"This is _my_ flat!"

"Good luck fucking me in _your_ flat when _I_ walk out the door!"

"Stop!" Harry said suddenly, his hands trying to prevent Draco from tipping him over again and his knees trying to separate Draco's obstinately closed legs. "Are we actually doing this? Fighting over who gets to fuck who?"

"You sound surprised" Malfoy replied. Harry's phone started to vibrate again and with a sigh, Harry disentangled himself and sat up, digging in his pocket and pulling it out. "Okay you can top!" Draco snapped. "I'm not very good at it anyway."

"Thank you." Harry sighed, before kissing Draco languidly. "But I have to answer this." Draco groaned dramatically and flopped backwards, his blond hair fanning out on the bed in little tufts. Harry shifted on top of him to admire the view and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Harry!" Hermione called down the line.

"Hi!" Harry said brightly, trying to get off Draco who was rolling his hips beneath him. Draco snatched his wrists and held him still. "Ow! I mean..._How..._How's Australia?"

"It's fantastic Harry, We had a barbecue last night and Ron and I bought your gifts!"

"That sounds great Hermione." Harry replied, watching in horror as Draco reached a pale hand into Harry's jeans.

"_No_!" he mouthed to Draco, who didn't listen and dipped his hands into Harry's boxer shorts.

"You're still coming on Sunday aren't you Harry?" Hermione asked him, oblivious. "Ron can't wait to show you his gift. Personally I think it's ridiculous."

"Yeah I'm still co – uhhh." Harry clapped a hand over his mouth as Draco's finger's found their target and he sniggered.

"Harry." Hermione said briskly and Harry felt his face burn red. "Are you _with_ someone?"

"He'd better not be with my sister!" Ron shouted in the background.

"I'm not with Ginny." Harry said, wrenching himself away from Draco and tripping backwards off the bed. "But could you ring back tomorrow? I'm really sorry."

"As long as it isn't my sister, I'm happy he's getting laid." he heard Ron say brightly.

"Charming Ronald. I hope you're being _safe_ Harry-"

"Oh my God!" Harry cried in disgust. "I can manage my own sex life thanks. Can I _please_ go?"

"Fine. I'll call back tomorrow." Hermione sighed.

"Have fun!" Ron added.

Harry hung up and rubbed his face in revulsion, ignoring Draco laying wantonly on his bed in nothing but his boxers, laughing at him in delight. He pulled open his bedside drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches before crossing the room to pull open his French doors and stand on the balcony, lighting a smoke and taking a drag.

"Potter!" Draco called from the bed. "Get back here." Harry ran his hand through his hair, looking up at the stars, sparkling in the fluid night. "Oi!" Ignoring him, Harry put the cigarette back in his mouth. He heard the mattress give way and Malfoy joined him outside, leaning his back against the balcony railings and looking at Harry expectantly. He took the cigarette from Harry's mouth and Harry growled, but instead of throwing it, he placed it in his own and inhaled, tipping his head back and letting the smoke sit in his mouth like a dragon, propelling up into the night air when he blew out. It was painfully erotic, but Harry could only take his cigarette back and avert his gaze. "You've got cold feet now haven't you?" Malfoy sighed.

"It's just happened so fast." Harry retorted. "We met Friday and less than a week later we're fucking."

"Three things." Malfoy began waspishly. "Firstly, we didn't meet on Friday Potter, we've known each other for years. Secondly, you're so old fashioned, people in this day and age think an hour is enough time to get to know someone before shagging and thirdly, we're not actually fucking because your friends keep interrupting." Harry nodded, stubbing his cigarette out on the balcony and tossing it in the empty plant pot. "So, you're just not interested now or what?" Malfoy asked tersely. "Is this about me being a boy? Are you frightened of the sex? We don't have to do it like that you know - a dick's pretty easy to please-"

"Malfoy-"

"Or is it because of us? Or me rather: your childhood nemesis and a former Death Eater?"

"Malfoy." Harry sighed wearily.

"I really want you, you stupid bastard."

"I really want you too!" Harry shouted, prodding Draco back into his bedroom because his balcony was no place to be shouting such things. "I just don't think we're ready, okay?"  
Draco folded his arms."I thought we were more than ready. Overdone in fact." he grumbled. "Can you not get it up? Is that it?"

"Draco, you had your hands in my pants and I think you'll agree I most certainly _had it up_."

Draco sat on Harry's bed, his expression resembling one of a sulking child's. He looked so small with his tiny frame in nothing but his boxer shorts that Harry sat next to him, pulling him close. "Please don't make me go home alone Harry." he whispered in a voice so quiet, Harry almost missed it.

Harry sought out his mouth and kissed him softly, running his thumb along his jaw. He pulled back the duvet and Draco climbed in, stretching beneath it with a petulant expression. Harry left the room, turning off the record player that was still crooning away in the living room and scratching Charlie's head as he lay miserable on the sofa. Upon seeing Harry, he perked up, leaping up and following his master through the flat as he turned off the lights and went into the bedroom. Harry shut the door and Draco watched him take off his jeans and get into the other side of the bed. Charlie hopped up, sniffing the blond stranger under the duvet and settling himself between them, drooling happily.

"Really?" Draco asked with one eyebrow raised, turning to look at Harry over Charlie's soft, brown back.

"Really." Harry replied, switching off his bedside lamp.


	12. Twelve

**TWELVE**

Harry woke up and opened his eyes, staring up at his ceiling and blinking sleep away. Now his body was free from any sort of drug, he began to rethink the events of last night, wondering how it had all gone so wrong it little under an hour. He thought of Edvard and his blood boiled, disgusted by his oily personality and fits of violence and he wondered how he could have hurt Draco when he was so young. He folded his arms under his head and yawned, arching his back. Turning his head in the soft morning sunlight, he found that aside from Charlie, he was alone in his bed. He hoped Draco hadn't had a change of heart and left him, and just as he was beginning to feel sorry for himself, Draco pushed his way into the bedroom with two mugs, still in nothing but his boxers. He shooed Charlie from the bed and sat on it, leaning back against the pillows.

"I made myself at home," he explained, handing Harry a mug of coffee. "Seen as you owe me."

"Why do I owe you?" Harry asked, sitting up to sip the hot drink. "Fuck, that's a good coffee, Draco."

"You were useless last night because you were so high and then you refused to shag me." Draco retorted waspishly, brushing off the compliment.

"I'm sorry." Harry said stiffly, and he was.

"You're a very bad Auror Potter, you know that?" Harry nodded miserably, wondering if there was ever an Auror so bad they smoke, drank, took drugs and got into fights. Probably. Draco ran his hand through his hair and sipped coffee from a mug with a Gryffindor Lion on it. Harry smirked, his nerves tingling. "And I'm sorry about the shagging." Harry added in an undertone, putting his mug down on his bedside table and edging closer to Draco.

"Lack of." he was corrected.

"Well I'm _very_ sorry about it." Harry trailed his hand down Draco's bare leg and pressed a kiss into his hair. Draco sighed, leaning into Harry's touch with increasing interest. "Put that mug down." Harry ordered, and Draco did, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck as Harry clambered between his thighs.

"I thought we weren't ready Mr. Virgin." Draco drawled, idly running his hands through Harry's hair as Harry pressed kisses into his neck, taking in his sharp, lively smell.

"I'm not a virgin, Malfoy."

"Man virgin." Harry kissed him to shut him up, tasting bitter coffee and enjoying one of the better uses of his insulting mouth. Draco kissed him back languidly, tilting his head and wrapping his legs around Harry to pull him closer. When the house phone rang, Draco made an explosive noise against Harry's lips and tightened his grip on Harry's hair. _This is getting ridiculous,_ Harry thought, and he ignored it, running his hands over the back of Draco's thigh, grinning against his mouth when he arched his back and sighed beneath him. The answering machine clicked in just as Harry's hand was travelling up the leg of Draco's boxer shorts.

"Harry it's Andromeda. I don't want to worry you but Teddy's gone missing in the garden-" Harry leaped from his bed and ran into the hall. "-I know he hasn't gone far but he won't reply when I call to him and he only really listens to you when he gets like this-"

Harry picked up the phone. "I'll be over now." he breathed. He put down the phone and tripped towards his bedroom, pushing past Draco who was stood in the doorway. He didn't have time to pacify him - if he wanted to be angry then there was nothing Harry could do. His Godson _always_ came first.

"Is that Teddy Tonks?" Malfoy asked, watching Harry as he picked his clothes off the floor and pulled them on.

"Teddy Lupin." Harry corrected him as he tugged his shirt on back to front and tucked his feet into his converses, watching as Draco started pulling himself into his tight jeans. "What are you doing?" he demanded, lacing his shoes.

"I'm - oomph." Draco said as he overbalanced onto the floor in his jeans. "I'm coming with you." Harry said nothing, but he circled the bed in search of Malfoy's t shirt and when he found it, he pulled it over the boy's head. Well this was interesting: putting clothes on one another instead of taking them off. As Draco rammed his feet into his shoes, Harry had an idea.

"Charlie!" he called and Charlie came bounding into the room, his tongue lolling.

"You ready?" he asked Malfoy.

Draco stood up, looking flustered, and he grabbed Harry's hand. "Go."

Harry spun with one hand on Charlie's back, and the other held in Draco's. They reappeared in the garden of the Tonks' household, next to the pond Harry had landed in with Hagrid. The garden was a bright, green mass of overgrown grass up to Harry's waist, alive with the sound of insects. Ted Tonks was stood at the front door and he approached Harry when they appeared, Charlie jumping up to greet him.

"I'm quite sure he's in the garden." Ted explained. "But Andromeda's in a terrible state." He glanced at Draco and Harry knew immediately that he recognised him. Draco stared back, his expression like that of a child's. "Draco isn't it?" Ted asked, looking down at Harry and Malfoy's hands: still clasped. Draco nodded briskly. "You know your mother wrote to Andromeda from Azkaban?" Draco shook his head, his fingers digging into Harry's palm. Ted nodded slowly, his hands in his pocket. "She's in the kitchen, if you wanted to speak to her. I think she'd like you to." Still for a moment, Draco clung to Harry's hand, then he released it and wandered stiffly up the path and into the house.

Harry waited for Ted to ask him questions. When none came, he bent down to speak to Charlie. "Where's Teddy, Charlie?" Harry asked in an excitable voice. "Where is he?" Charlie, not quite understanding, leapt up at Ted, his tail beating with exhilaration. Ted laughed.

"I'll go inside and make some drinks." he sighed. "Leave him wander and he'll pick up a scent." Harry did just that, sitting on the front step and watching Charlie sniff the pond and pee on the flowerbed. He wondered how Malfoy was doing inside, and what he'd have to say to an Aunt he'd probably never met, one similar in appearance yet so different from Bellatrix**.**

"Teddy? It's Harry!" he called hopefully, but the only reply he got was the noise of the insects in the grass and the chirp of the birds on the roof. He watched Charlie again as he sniffed the perimeter of the grassy jungle, apparently picking up an interesting smell. Suddenly, his nose twitched and he bounded headlong into the grass, barking in excitement. Harry tripped off the step and ran in after him, following the trail of flattened grass Charlie left in his wake. He halted when Charlie did, watching the dog push his nose into a knot of tight grasses. Harry stooped down onto all fours and crawled in after him.

His head was now in some sort of shadowy palace of grass and daisies sprouted in between his outstretched fingers on the ground, their petals closed in the dim light of their shady kingdom. Charlie was lying on his stomach with his head in the lap of a rather miserable looking Teddy. "Can I come in?" Harry asked in a soft voice.

"You didn't knock." Teddy replied forlornly.

"Sorry." Harry said, backing up out of the den "Knock knock?"

"Come in." Harry edged forward again and lay on his stomach with his head beneath the grasses. Teddy wiped his nose on his tiny sleeve and patted Charlie's head.

"Why are you hiding Teddy?" Harry asked.

"I wanted to come and find you." Teddy explained. "But I didn't know the way."

"Why did you want to find me? You should have asked Grandma and you could have come and visited me."

"She doesn't like talking about my – about my parents." The grasses whispered in the warm breeze that rustled through them and a ladybird made its way across the back of Harry's hand.

"What did you say about them?" Harry asked.

"I told Grandma you said my parents were in my heart and I wanted to get them out." Harry was beginning to feel like a complete failure as a godfather. "Only the most best Wizard could do that." Teddy continued. "And the most best wizard is Harry!"

Harry sighed and reached out to ruffle Teddy's hair, which was green today, acting as camouflage in the grasses. "Teddy," he began, wondering how best to phrase it this time around. "Your parents-"

"Make room." said a quiet voice, and Malfoy's head appeared next to Harry's in the undergrowth.

"Burglar!" Teddy shouted.

"No it's fine Teddy. He's a friend." Harry said quickly, then he pushed Malfoy out. "Go back and knock."

"Knock?"

"Knock knock!" Teddy cried indignantly.

"Knock, knock." Draco grumbled.

"Come in." Teddy replied, and Draco put his head back in, laying on his stomach.

"Teddy, this is Draco." Harry said.

"Hello." said Teddy bashfully, hiding behind one of Charlie's silky ears.

"Draco means Dragon in Latin." Malfoy said, rubbing at his eyes.

Teddy opened his mouth in awe. "Are you a dragon?"

"Yes." Draco replied and Teddy grinned behind Charlie's ear. "Your mother was my cousin, did you know?" he added.

Draco ignored Harry who was watching him with a bemused expression. Teddy looked thoughtful as he pulled up grass and sprinkled it on top of Charlie's head. "I can't remember my mother."

"I can." Harry smiled. "Haven't Grandma and Grandpa already told you? You've got your father's eyes and your mother's smile."

"They left them to you before they went away." Malfoy added lazily. Harry scowled at him, wondering why Malfoy – of all people – was so good at this.

"And you know what? Draco has bad days just like you."

"I do?" Draco whispered in a voice not as scandalised as he was probably aiming for. "And he does?"  
Harry nodded as Teddy scrambled over Charlie and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. "Can I have an ice cream Harry?"

"I think we'll all have an ice cream." Harry replied.

He perked up considerably and Harry carried his Godson out of his grassy cavern and they wandered back to the house, Teddy squirming excitably in Harry's arms. "Are we going to the beach?" he squealed. "The beach! The beach!"

"We can go to the beach if you like." Harry replied.

Teddy wriggled out of Harry's grasp and ran into the house, throwing his arms around Andromeda's legs in the hallway. "And Dragon?"

Harry glanced at Draco who was doing his very best to conceal a smirk and remain nonchalant. "You'll have to ask Dragon if he wants to come." Bashful again, Teddy hid behind Andromeda's legs, peering at Draco as his hair faded into a rich purple. Draco sneezed and pawed at his eyes, and suddenly the constant habit made sense to Harry. "You've got hay fever!"

"Don't be silly." Draco snapped, glaring at Harry with red eyes. "That's for children."

"Quite contrary." Andromeda interjected, leading her grandson up the stairs to dress him for his outing. "Nymphadora suffered terribly."

Ted, who was standing in the kitchen doorway nodded. "We still have that potion she took for it – I'm certain. I'll fetch it now."

He slipped through the house and Draco turned to look at Harry as though cursing him for having said anything. Not looking very threatening with a red nose, he rubbed his eyes again and growled as Harry laughed. "I don't get you Malfoy." he grinned. "I really don't."

~X~

They caught the bus to the shore from the stop at the end of Harry's street, Draco Apparating briefly to his own place to get his infamous rucksack and Harry persuading the bus driver that Charlie could be trusted and controlled, despite him jumping up to lick the glass the driver sat behind. They sat together at the back of the bus, Draco reluctantly holding Charlie's leash and Harry gripping the back of Teddy's t shirt as he pressed his face against the window, laughing in delight at the various coloured cars on the road. Harry tightened the baseball cap on his Godson's head, not keen on explaining to the Muggles travelling with them why the three year old's hair was changing rapidly from silver to blue to red to black in conjunction with the cars that passed them.

Draco sat close to Harry, unintentionally pressing into him, his body a mass of nervous angles, his quivering leg jogging Harry's. His brow was knitted together and he bit the corner of his thumb, staring out of the opposite window. It struck Harry once more that he was spending time with Malfoy – who'd now become Draco, a person (a boy - a man?) he desired and who's company he almost enjoyed. He was someone who accompanied him on beach trips, had slept in his bed twice and told him about his troubled time after the war. When Harry looked at him, taking in his familiar features and strange Muggle clothes, he saw Malfoy, then Draco, then someone who wasn't really anybody, just something very small and sad.

Harry put his hand on the quivering leg and it stilled. "What are we doing?" he murmured, his hand tightening on Teddy's t shirt as he jumped up and down to peer at a passing lorry.

"I believe we're going to the seaside." Draco smirked, his eyes sparkling with familiar devilry

"You know what I mean." Harry retorted, taking his hand away and turning to look at the hearse Teddy was now gesticulating at. Draco chose not to reply, and the rest of the journey was spent in silence, Harry bristling nervously without being certain why.

When they arrived, Harry scrambled off the bus after Teddy and Draco cursed Charlie as he pulled against his leash and sniffed the air. Harry paused to take in the smell of sea salt, straining his ears to hear the distant sound of the waves. "Control yourself!" Draco snapped as Charlie bounded ahead, pulling him across the road and over the bank onto the beach. Harry laughed to himself, knowing Charlie had never been taught the command _control yourself_, and even if he had, he'd be incapable of obeying. As Draco vanished over the bank with the bounding Labrador, Harry and Teddy followed, their legs brushing through Marram grass and their shoes faltered on the crumbling sand. Teddy streaked ahead, his cap flying off his head as he bolted straight into the wind sweeping off the ocean. Harry ran after the vanishing sea-blue head, leaving Draco on the dunes where he'd apparently given up on animal control and dropped Charlie's lead, leaving the Labrador to gallop alongside him, ecstatic he was finally participating in a game of chase.

Harry returned to the dunes out of breath with his Godson under one arm, giggling manically. Charlie leapt at Draco who had sat himself down and pressed his sandy paws all over him in greeting. "Off." Draco snapped, shoving the lump away as Harry sat next to him, flopping back to catch his breath. He took off his shoes and wiggled his toes experimentally in the sand which was warm in the heat of the sun. Teddy mirrored him and Harry smiled, his breath finally steady.

"Take your shoes off, Squirrel." Harry grinned, turning to look at the stony-faced Draco.

"I'd rather not."

Harry shrugged and unclipped Charlie's lead before standing up and taking his Godson's hand. "Let's look for beach monsters." Harry said, leading Teddy down to distant rock pools next to the shore.

Teddy ran ahead of him with Charlie, and they all began searching for interesting specimens, Charlie pressing his nose into the water and chasing the seagulls that patrolled the pools. Harry lifted rock after rock for his Godson, watching him sift through the sand beneath it and pull out disgruntled crabs. "Ow!" Teddy complained as a particularly sour crab pinched his hand.

"We'll call that one Draco." Harry grinned. "Shall we show it to him?" Teddy - ever-sharp when it came to mischief – nodded avidly and handed the crab to Harry as they made their way back up the beach. Charlie followed, stopping to sniff a washed up jellyfish and roll in some dried seaweed. Draco glanced up from his Stonehenge notebook as they approached, raking his eyes over their tousled hair and Charlie's sticky fur.

"Look Dragon!" Teddy cried, pointing to the crab in Harry's hand. "We called him Draco because he bit me."

"Pinched you." Harry corrected, holding the crustacean close to Draco's face.

"Put that back where it came from immediately." Draco ordered, going cross eyed as he tried to keep tabs on the creature's snapping pincers.

"Are you frightened off it?" Harry asked, edging the crab a little closer.

"Stop being childish Potter and put it back."

"Have you ever met a crab before?" Harry continued, his face breaking into a grin.

"Grow up."

"Give it a kiss." Draco snapped his notebook shut and stood up, snatching the crab from Harry and marching all the way down the beach again to return it. Harry watched him go, dissolving into laughter as he missed his footing on the rocks halfway there.

"I'm – I'm building a castle." Teddy said next to him, patting sand into a heap.

"Shall I get you some seashell's to put on it?" Harry asked, his gaze sliding to Malfoy's notebook as he wondered what he'd been writing.

"And feathers to catch the wishes." Teddy nodded.

Harry smiled, wondering whose wishes the feathers were meant to catch. "Stay." he said to Charlie, who lay obediently on his stomach next to Teddy. Harry wandered a few metres away to where the shore broke at high tide and he scrutinised the floor looking for washed up shells and bird feathers, glancing at the approaching Malfoy in the distance. The wind carried his grumbles halfway up the beach and Harry watched the grumpy shape approach, the moving clouds above him casting him in light and shadow as he walked.

"I hope you're satisfied." he snapped. "That thing bit me."

"Pinched." Harry corrected as Draco stopped next to him and breathed out, watching Teddy sprinkle sand on Charlie's head whilst reciting some sort of made-up spell. "What did Andromeda say to you?"

"Maybe we should go out on a date some time Potter, and you can just ask me all the questions you like and then _not_ shag me."  
"Just wondering." Harry shrugged, twirling a downy feather between his thumb and forefinger. He brushed it against Draco's nose and grinned as he tutted, turning his head away. "Is that a smile?" The way Draco was contorting his face desperately, it looked more like a grimace, but Harry leaned close to him anyway, knowing he was putting on the grouchy façade. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Which bloody one?"

"What are we doing?"Harry said softly. Draco tilted his head thoughtfully and regarded Harry with a questioning expression. Harry thought it was the perfect angle for a kiss, so he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Draco's, tasting sea salt and listening to his barely audible sigh. They brushed their wind dried lips together, Harry lifting his hand to hold Draco's blond hair out of his eyes as the breeze flew at them, rippling their t shirts.

"Your Godson." Draco murmured against Harry as he broke away. He nodded at Teddy who was scolding Charlie with tears in his eyes. Harry jogged up to him, stooping to ask him what the matter was.

"He stamped on it, Harry!" Teddy wailed, swatting Charlie with his tiny hands.

"He didn't mean to, Teddy, he's just big and clumsy." Harry replied, looking down at the pile of crumbled sand. "We can fix it."

~X~

Harry spent the rest of the early afternoon decorating Teddy's restored castle while Draco scribbled away in his notebook, occasionally glancing up and locking eyes with Harry, who was watching him, before continuing to scribble. Teddy placed the largest feather in the centre of his masterpiece and stood up triumphantly. "Magical!" he cried.

"Very." Harry confirmed. "Look at that, Draco. Wouldn't you say it's magical?" Draco looked up from his notes and studied the haphazard pile of sand and sea memorabilia. Harry frowned at him sternly.

"A work of art, I'm sure." He replied. Teddy danced around it and threw his arms around Charlie's neck, apparently forgiving him.

"My stomach's crying, Harry!" he declared. "It wants food."

"Mine too." Harry replied, clasping his Godson's hand and glancing at Draco. "What about Squirrel's?"

"Don't even think about making that a nick name." Draco snapped. "And I'm not hungry."

"Mind the castle Dragon!" Teddy called, tugging Harry up the dune by his hand.

They wandered along the bank until they came to a fish and chip shop not far away. Teddy pointed to everything behind the glass until Harry eventually just ordered one small and one large portion of chips. They were presented to Harry wrapped in newspaper by a girl with beads threaded into her hair and hoop earrings. She winked at Harry as he handed over the money.

"Why isn't Dragon hungry?" Teddy asked as they made their way back to the far-away Draco and Charlie.

"He pretends not to be, because he's very busy." Harry replied.

"He doesn't look busy."

"He is in his head."

When they got back, Harry sat next to Draco with his bundle of salty chips and smiled alluringly. Draco glanced at it with contempt and swallowed. "Food in newspaper." he scoffed. Harry watched Teddy share his chips with Charlie and pretended he couldn't notice the Squirrel subtly taking his own.

~X~

Sandy and dishevelled later that afternoon, they all wandered along the shabby promenade past beach huts and elderly picnicking couples until they came to a little café where Harry treated them all to ice cream. They sat on a weathered bench outside, watching the seagulls swooping over the surf that had travelled up the beach. Teddy stood on the bench, shouting and waving at the birds and forgetting to eat his ice cream so strawberry dribbled over his hand. Harry tightened his baseball cap again, knowing a three year old with strawberry pink hair would not be an acceptable sight. Draco sat close to Harry, and Harry was doing his best not to watch him stroke his tongue languidly over vanilla. Charlie panted at their feet and Harry filled his hands with water from a bottle for him to lap, keeping an eye on Teddy who now had a strawberry ice cream beard and was performing a small dance routine for Draco.

"Come on." Harry said, wiping his Godson's face when he'd finished his treat. Harry led him down the sand again and pulled off his shoes and socks, urging Teddy to do the same. Harry rolled up the bottom of their jeans and held tightly to the boy's hand as they stood at the water's edge, dipping their toes in the cool surf as Charlie splashed in and out. "You coming to test the water Squirrel?"

"Once more, Potter. Call me that only once more and I swear I'll put a squirrel down your pants." Draco snapped.

Harry was just thinking that depending on what squirrel they were talking about, he wouldn't really object, when moments later, Draco stood with them in the shallows, wiggling his toes in the soft sand experimentally. "Jump me!" Teddy cried, holding out his free hand to Draco. He stared at it as though it was a blast-ended skrewt and Harry waited to see if he'd accept the challenge. Teddy's face fell as he waited and Draco made an explosive noise and clutched at the tiny outstretched offer, focusing his gaze on the far-off horizon. They lifted Teddy into the air as each tiny wave rippled towards him, over and over until Teddy's excitable shrieks died away and he called the game to halt.

"Enough jumps?" Harry asked him, and Teddy replied with a yawn. Mission accomplished, Harry lifted him into his arms and they wandered back up the beach.

~X~

The driver almost had a fit when Harry shuffled onto the bus with the filthy sea monster that had once been Charlie, but with Harry's pleas and Draco's casual charm, he told them to get on for the sake of sleepy Teddy whose arms were wrapped around Harry's neck. They sat at the back again, away from the old woman who snorted at them disdainfully as they jostled past her seat, leaving a trail of sand behind them.

"It's too tight." Teddy grumbled, tugging his baseball cap off his head and throwing it at Draco who caught it swiftly in his hands. Harry reasoned it probably was, and he let Teddy doze in his arms, free from head constraints with his strawberry hair. Charlie too, was drained of all Labrador energy, and he lay on the floor of the bus, sliding this way and that when it rounded corners.

They walked together in silence when they got off the bus, Draco fiddling with Teddy's baseball cap and trying to drag a weary Charlie along by his leash. Harry glanced at him, watching the furrow in his brow and knowing they wouldn't have each other tonight. Again. "I'll say goodbye then." Draco murmured when Harry had opened his door and Charlie had run in, searching for his tea. He handed Harry Teddy's little hat and Harry looked at him, wondering why it had happened again, but knowing that where his Godson was concerned, Draco would just have to keep waiting.

The flat was warm and welcoming but Draco remained on the doorstep, idly fingering the straps of his rucksack and looking at the floor. Harry approached him, Teddy still sleeping in his arms and he pressed a brief kiss against his lips, tasting vanilla and wanting more and more and more. He pulled away quickly and Draco lingered, licking his lips. He reached out his hand and ran it through the strawberry field that was Teddy's hair in a surprisingly affectionate farewell.

"Bye then." Harry said hoarsely, avoiding Draco's gaze. It was a moment before he heard him Dissapparate and when he did, he shut the door, taking Teddy into his little bedroom with a heavy heart.

~X~

When Harry had first taken on the 'Godfather role', he had still been raw, and he had patrolled the flat once he'd put Teddy to bed, ready to defend him from the shadows in the darkness and comfort him should monsters plague his slumber. He'd stay up until a ridiculous hour, wearing the carpet down to nothingness and opening Teddy's bedroom door every five minutes to check his tiny form was still there: breathing deeply beneath his eiderdown.

That Thursday night, moments after Draco had Disapparated, leaving his taste lingering on Harry's lips, Harry tucked his Godson beneath his haphazard patchwork quilt and asked himself what he was doing, why he was doing it and whether it would all end in tears. He decided it wasn't a question of whether, rather when, and he sloped into his own room, shutting the door on Charlie, who was so filthy he'd need at least three baths before he resembled himself again.

Harry's bedroom was a hue of profoundly deep blue's and dark wood, giving it a safe, sleepy ambiance. The balcony outside his room looked onto the edge of the park and a mass of brambled undergrowth with a cycle path winding precariously through it. Why someone would want to chance a bike ride through the nettles was anyone's guess, but some people apparently did.

Harry stood on his balcony now, smoking a cigarette and watching a pair of yellow eyes dart across the cycle path in the distance. It was warm again tonight – but then again, it had been all week. With a sigh, Harry rang Hermione, very covertly hoping for a lecture on his behaviour as he missed his friends dearly, but also hoping he wouldn't have to explain to them that Malfoy's hand had been down his pants last time they called.

"Hi Harry!" Hermione breathed, noisy hustle and bustle surrounding her in the background. "I'm so sorry; we really can't talk now because we're trying to do some last minute shopping before tomorrow!"

"Oh. It's okay." Harry replied, put out.

"We'll see you Sunday, okay? I can't wait!"

"Bye."

Harry wondered what would have happened if he'd gone with Ron and Hermione this week. Would Draco have come looking for him in the Ministry and found only Nathaniel, telling him Harry was on the other side of the world? His frowning face would never have been in the Prophet on Tuesday morning, he wouldn't have helped Nathaniel drown his sorrows, and Teddy would have probably been lost in the garden for half the day and this whole thing with Draco...

It hurt his head to think about it, so he trudged back into his room and fell asleep fully clothed.

~X~

The following morning saw five baths – four fifths of which were for Charlie and one for Teddy who'd also covered himself in chocolate spread at breakfast. Harry showered afterwards, washing away the smell of sea salt and breathing in steam from unnecessarily hot water that managed to wash away not only remnants of the beach, but the concerns over his sanity. He took Teddy home to his grandparents, leaving him to chatter wildly about seashells and wish-catching feathers and the grumpy Dragon who guarded it all.

It was only back in his flat when he reached into his kitchen cabinet for the tea bags did he find it: A photograph of a beautiful blond man standing in front of the imposing structure at Stonehenge, his platinum hair being blown into the air forcefully by a breeze so savage, he struggled to stand. Harry smiled at the windswept Draco beneath an overcast sky, noting his anorak, the pink in his cheeks and the way the corner of his mouth quirked slightly as his picture was taken, as though it was all a fabulous joke.

The best part was scrawled on the back in writing Harry had seen somewhere in his childhood:

_'I get by with a little help from my friends.'_


	13. Thirteen

When I reached this chapter, I had a fleeting concern that it would cause me problems because it was the thirteenth. I'm not very superstitious really, but to my great surprise, I found myself unable to write for weeks with a very bad case of writer's block. I finished the chapter eventually, but to this day I feel like it suffered.

_MissSnakeyBoots_**  
**

* * *

It's been so long, so long  
Since I fell apart  
Fell in love

_Twin Shadow - Golden Light_**  
**

* * *

**THIRTEEN**

"I'm telling you Potter, we're made for each other." Nathaniel grinned at him from beneath lavishly jelled hair.

"...Yeah."

"When did you become so miserable?"

Harry sighed and dragged a hand over his eyes, the smell of Nathaniel's aftershave resonating in his nostrils. "I'm sorry, I just -"

_Just what? _Just wondering how to come out to his best friends? Just wondering whether he was even gay? Just wondering if his mental health had somehow suffered in the war? Just wondering if Draco never wanted to see him again and whether the picture he had left was simply a goodbye-and-thank you-very-much gift?

"Romantic problems?" Nathaniel asked, sympathetically, nursing his pint while Harry's remained untouched. Harry looked up from his lap into the sharp blue of Nathaniel's eyes. It was all right for him, he was going on a date with the girl of his dreams. Then again, didn't he deserve it? Happy ever after was something Harry had come to expect after his chaotic life, and he couldn't help feeling jealous that it was all so simple for his friend. "Drink up Potter." Nathaniel smiled, rubbing his hands together gleefully as the moment for sharing troubles passed. "In thirteen and a half minutes I'll be meeting Layla!"

Harry assembled his features into a delighted smile and lifted his drink, trying to rouse some excitement for Nathaniel, who was currently pulling his worrying face. It was an expression Harry had seen often enough at work, and it consisted of Nathaniel widening his eyes, biting his lower lip with great force and curling his hands into claws, making him look like a rabbit on pills. He considered telling Nathaniel not to pull that face on his date, but if Layla really, truly liked him, she'd probably find it endearing. Girls were peculiar like that.

When Harry had waved Nathaniel off with several reassurances that his hair looked fine and his shoes weren't weird and his t shirt was somewhere between smart-casual and minimal-effort, he headed home from The Hammer and Tongs by himself. It was Saturday afternoon and Harry had spent much of the previous day, jogging around the park with Charlie, his heart fluttering like a school girl's every time he thought of Draco. Saturday morning had brought a wave of paranoia and doubt that left him wondering if he was being taken for a fool. Idiocy was something he was more than capable of, and he began to retrace his steps to last Thursday.

_At which point had he decided he was gay for Malfoy?_

Harry went jogging again that evening, though this time his mood was far more pensive and not even the smell of cut grass and the aeroplane trails in the dimming blue sky above him could lighten his temperament. By the time Sunday morning rolled around however, Harry was revelling in an unfeigned excitement at the thought of seeing his friends again, and he lay in his bed, rolling over onto the pillow Malfoy had slept on and breathing in the lingering smell of sharp, fiery spice and clean hair. He would have stayed there all morning if Charlie hadn't scrambled onto the bed and pressed his nose into Harry's mop of black hair, forcing him out of bed to make toast for them both.

"Dogs don't eat breakfast." Harry reminded him as Charlie politely accepted the plain slice Harry placed in his mouth.

~X~

On Sunday afternoon, Hermione pulled open the door with brown skin and her frazzled hair tied up on top of her head. "Harry!" she cried before throwing her arms around him and squeezing tightly.

"Hermione!" Harry replied with a smile as he hugged her back. She smelled of new perfume and cooked dinner, which she'd clearly been slaving over as she usually did on a Sunday. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Lovely!" She replied, pulling him over the threshold and into the lounge. "We found a Wizarding shop out there and I've brought back tacky gifts." She rummaged in a paper bag on the sofa and pulled out a handful of brightly coloured tack, consisting of a squashy koala bear in an _AUSTRALIA_ waistcoat that clung to his finger and a tiny kangaroo that hopped around the table-top, waving an Australian flag. Harry grinned as he admired them and from upstairs, he heard the toilet flush and thundering feet on the stairs before a lanky freckled form bounded into the room and shoved Harry playfully on the shoulder.

_So many freckles_, Harry thought.

"Look what I brought you Harry!" Ron cried, pulling two slouch hats out of the paper bag. He placed one on his own head and the other on Harry's and Harry squinted at his friend through the corks hanging on string from the brim. Ron swung his head and the corks on his hat moved, knocking together as Ron grinned in enrapture.

"It's a cork hat," Hermione explained as Harry admired his reflection in the mirror. "The corks are supposed to ward off insects."

"It reminds me of Luna." Ron added, disregarding Hermione's factual lecture and turning to Harry. "How's she keeping nowadays?"

"Well." Harry retorted. "She runs The Quibbler and she's big on painting." Harry watched the corks swaying on his hat in the mirror, trying his best to ignore the sober expression that had dawned on Hermione's face in the background reflection.

"Harry," she began.

"How were your parents Hermione?"

"Harry."

Harry crossed the room to look out of the front window. "Food smells nice. I think-"

"Harry, Ginny told me everything." she breathed.

Ron gasped scandalously. "What? Ginny didn't tell me _anything_! What's happened?" For a moment, Harry envisioned himself breaking the window and sprinting down the street with the corks swinging wildly on his hat. Speaking of which, if he was going to have this conversation, he'd rather have it without the goofy headgear. He took the hat off and spun it in his hands, turning to look at Hermione with a clueless expression and hoping he could deny everything.

"I think you should be careful Harry, that's all-"

"What did you do to my sister?" Ron barked, the corks on his hat swinging furiously.

"Shut _up_ Ron." Hermione snapped. "Harry hasn't done anything to Ginny. And she has a new boyfriend by the way, so you can focus your energies on giving him a hard time." Ron gaped and Harry really wished he'd take the bloody hat off – nervous hysteria was bubbling away within him at Ron's outraged expression. "Promise me you'll try not to get ahead of yourself or anything." she continued, looking at Harry across the room with her best pleading expression.

"I don't know what you're talking about 'Mione." Harry replied, his voice just a little too high pitched and his eyes unnecessarily wide._He was really asking for it now._

"You and Malfoy, Harry." Hermione prompted him, looking genuinely concerned at his ignorance.

"Harry and Malfoy?" Ron repeated, his expression puzzled as he folded his arms. "Harry and..." If only for a moment, Harry desperately wished he had Malfoy's camera to capture the dawning expression of downright horror on Ron's face as the penny clunked into place within his head.

"We knew this might be the case, Ron." Hermione snapped. "Harry's always had trouble with girls."

"Uh-" Harry attempted to interject, feeling slightly put-out that this seemed to be common knowledge.

Hermione continued, ignoring him and looking earnest. "It just so happens that he and Draco Malfoy have been..."

"I didn't know about this!" Ron cried. "Harry?"

Harry shook his head, his face betraying him. "You can't prove that theory Hermione. You're nuts." Hermione scowled and Harry felt pang of guilt for lying to her. She marched out of the room and returned with a newspaper, making Harry's stomach turn over. Whenever anyone brought a newspaper out during an argument, it always meant the same thing for Harry.

"Did you read Friday's paper?" she demanded, tapping her foot.

"I don't read the Prophet, Hermione - you know I don't."

She nodded and pressed it into his hands. "Page fourteen then."

Still standing in the same spot with a bemused expression on his face, Ron opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it again. Harry pulled his eyes down to the Prophet and thumbed his way to page fourteen, hoping Hermione couldn't see the quiver in his hands.

**POTTER BUILDS BRIDGES? **- said the title of a small article at the top of the page.

There was a blurry picture there too of Draco and himself looking at each other on Thursday, Harry lifting the feather to brush it across Draco's nose. The picture didn't capture their kiss however, which meant so far it proved nothing, but Harry quickly moved his eyes to the article itself.

**HARRY POTTER** – it began, **was yesterday photographed on Little Broading beach with none other than ex Death Eater and disreputable character DRACO MALFOY_._ The pair were seen with a small child believed to be Potter's Godson and a dog presumed to be Potter's. The duo appeared 'relaxed' and even 'sexually charged' in one another's company, according to the onlooker who photographed them.**

**'They was kissing and everything but I didn't get a picture of that because I couldn't believe my own eyes,' says Gladys Ferryway, 52, who had been photographing seagulls at the time. 'I always knew there were something funny about that Potter kid, and I always thought he liked a bit of the sausage.'**

Harry had to stop reading before the image was burned into his mind forever. He seriously hoped Hermione hadn't made sausage for dinner. "This doesn't prove anything Hermione." Harry laughed skittishly, pushing the paper at her.

Hermione shook her head as Ron came over to read the article he too, had apparently missed. "I told you I spoke to Ginny, Harry. She told me about the way you were with him on Monday and what happened Wednesday when she and Seamus came to fetch you."  
Harry shook his head defiantly as Ron made an explosive noise of disgust at the article and threw it onto the floor. "What a pile of toss. Right Harry?"

"Then there was Wednesday night, when I rang..." Hermione continued, holding Harry with a fierce look.

"What are you suggesting 'Mione?" Ron scoffed. "Harry was _with_ Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head again. Deny everything. Deny it all. "Fine." Hermione said crisply, narrowing her eyes. "You're just friends then are you? Well I still think you ought to be careful Harry – they say he's disturbed-"

"He's not disturbed!" Harry snapped before he could stop himself. Of course Hermione was smarter than him, and she knew how to catch him out. Aside from a challenge, the only other thing Harry couldn't resist was defending those he held dear to his heart. Except he wasn't supposed to hold Malfoy dear to his heart at all. He was only supposed to want to get him in his bed. Instead of looking triumphant at her breakthrough, Hermione's eyes softened and she looked at Harry with a sickening amount of compassion. "I mean," Harry corrected himself. "It's not his fault he's like that."

"And how would you know Harry?"

"Stuff happened to him." Harry snapped. "And he takes it because he's that sort of person." Ron was looking as though he'd stepped off the plane in the wrong place. "Some people just get into trouble a lot" Harry added.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione sighed.

"And I haven't shagged him." Harry bit, not wanting Hermione's pity. "But I want to." Speechless and emotional - like Ginny had been – Hermione threw her arms around his neck and squeaked incoherently into his neck. Harry regarded Ron over her shoulder, watching him stare at the floor with the cork hat still perched on his head.

"I don't understand half the stuff you do mate." Ron said in a gravelly voice. "But you always seem to get it right."

Harry took this as some sort of acceptance, but not wanting this to turn into a coming out party, he shrugged Hermione off him and smiled broadly. "You're jeans are unzipped Ron, by the way."

Which was the perfect thing to say to his best friend, when he'd just outed himself from the closet.

"Did you even wash your hands after using the toilet?" Hermione cried, swatting him in disgust.

"Excuse me for wanting to see Harry and show him his hat!" Ron retorted, the corks swinging angrily once more.

"And I love the hat." Harry beamed, putting his own back on his head. "And the – those things." he added, gesturing to the koala and kangaroo on the table: the koala now clinging to the kangaroo's back, slowing down its patriotic leaping and flag waving.

"You'd better wash them before you eat." Hermione tutted at Ron flustered. "And I think I've burned dinner."

~X~

Hermione had burned dinner, but it didn't stop Harry from enjoying it anyway, appreciating the fact she'd considered his sex-life more important than her meal. He kept his hat on throughout dinner – as did Ron – and he let the tiny koala shimmy up the handle of the water-jug. There was no more talk of Malfoy, and Harry happily listened to Hermione and Ron tell him all about how Mr and Mrs Granger had a pool dug into their garden and how Ron had burned his nose on the beach.

When Harry left his friends he felt satiated and sentimental all at once. Hermione hugged him tightly as he stood on the doorstep, and he was hardly surprised when she whispered in his ear. "Be careful."

Ron clapped his shoulder, only the slightest hint of trepidation about the evening in his furrowed brow. "See you Monday." he grinned. Harry nodded and Disapparated in his cork hat, tiny Australian animals wriggling in his pocket.

~X~

Harry decided to take the train home and stood on the platform beneath a blue sky, smoking and pretending he wasn't stalling for time. His thoughts drifted to Malfoy, just as they had been doing all week. He was obscure, but so familiar and Harry felt like he'd known him for years - which of course he had, yet he was full of surprises and nothing like the boy he had known. Harry supposed, for the first time, that he was different as well, not just Malfoy. He was slower, calmer and far more withdrawn. Rightly so, he thought defiantly. He had fought enough dragons and Dark Lord's - his life had been one big roller-coaster ride. Didn't he deserve a rest?

The train pulled into the station, bringing with it a cool breeze that ruffled Harry's hair. He threw his cigarette to the floor and stamped on it viciously before boarding. He was being a hypocrite surely, for not understanding that people needed to change. It seemed like everything that had happened to Malfoy had made him the way he was now. It had brought out his vulnerable and unstable side, but with that, all the other things about him that made Harry dizzy. He was tender and loving with just enough sharpness and satire to keep Harry on his toes. He'd been a terrible person in the past; weak and twisted with hate, spoilt from the inside out with poisonous words. It had taken a great deal to break his spirit and leave him alone, putting himself back together in the shadow of a deviant preying on his weakness while his first true friends helped him, showing him life didn't have to be so ruthless.

It was official, Harry was enthralled. Ginny had been right, he probably did have that mad look in his eye. He was also blindly trusting someone he would have never have trusted with so much as his quill before this week, but hadn't the war taught him to trust others? Harry let out a long and unsteady breath, his hands on his knees. It was all going to go wrong, he could just feel Hermione lurking, waiting to help him up from the ground with _"I told you so."._

Harry tore his phone from his pocket and jabbed Malfoy's number into the keypad, drumming the fingers of his spare hand on his leg.

"Hello stranger." Malfoy drawled lazily as soon as he answered.

"Why did you leave me that picture?" Harry snapped, breathless.

"Don't you like it? It's Stonehenge; your favourite place."

"Why did you leave it to me?"

Malfoy sighed dramatically. "It was Thursday morning and I was trying my hand at a bit of romance Potter. I suppose it's not my forte."

"No, I...I just don't really know what's going on." Harry retorted, bringing his hand up to his head and rubbing it in agitation.

"I'm not surprised - you've always been a bit backward."

"Shut up Malfoy." Harry retorted wearily, the comeback starkly familiar.

"Why do you keep calling me, Potter?" Malfoy asked him, his voice tense on the other end of the line. "_I_ don't know what you want from me. _You_ don't know what you want from me-"

"I know what I want!" Harry snapped.

"Then why aren't you here?"

Harry hung up, tripped off the train at the next stop and Apparating as soon as he was out of sight.

~X~

Draco's street was usually a desolate stretch of wide, newly tarred road lined with cold, modern buildings. Today however, when Harry appeared, the sun was in just the right spot to reflect its light off the many glass windows and metal surfaces, giving it a glittering metropolitan feel. A Muggle cycled by and wished Harry a good afternoon and Harry returned the greeting – it was always nice being acknowledged out of good nature.

The lift was warm as Harry trundled upwards to the sixth floor and he examined himself in the reflective surface of the wall. He was horrified to find he still had his cork hat on and he tore it from his head, trying to recall how many people must have seen him looking completely bonkers. Aside from that, he looked fairly presentable; hair just about the right level of messy and none of the food dribbles on his clothes that Ron was prone to after meals. The lift pinged just as Harry was giving his reflection a rallying wink and the doors opened, bringing Harry the scent of something appealing.

Draco opened the door the moment Harry knocked and left him standing in the doorway as he disappeared into the kitchen. Harry hesitantly crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him, twisting the hat in his hands. Apparently Draco had been cooking as he was running his finger along the inside of a bowl and putting it in his mouth. "I never cease to amaze myself." he sighed as Harry approached him.

"Is that a meal you're eating?" Harry asked in mock surprise.

"Eaten." Draco corrected him. "And don't patronize me, Potter." Harry smirked; putting his hat on the worktop and watching Draco run his finger around the bowl again.

"Smells nice." Harry commented, guessing it was some sort of pasta.

"Taste." Draco ordered and his finger was in Harry's mouth before he could protest. Harry frowned as Draco grinned wickedly at him. His mouth exploded in a taste sensation of tomato, spice and several herbs he didn't know the name of. It was wonderful, but someone as smug and racy as Malfoy didn't need telling that. Harry tore the finger from his mouth.

"Not bad." he said nonchalantly, watching Malfoy sneer at him and toss the bowl in a sink full of hot water. "And stop flirting with me." Draco laughed derisively, pressing his back against the counter and regarding Harry with what was undoubtedly an alluring expression.

"I'm not flirting." he simpered, reaching forward and undoing the buttons on Harry's jeans in the blink of an eye.

"Oh my God." Harry managed as Draco stood close to him, tilting his head questioningly.

"I have a contraption." he began. "It's supposed to wash dishes, but I don't understand it at all."

"A dishwasher?" Harry asked, trying to hold back his giggles. "Did you want me to help you with your plumbing?"

Harry let out an unattractive snort of amusement at Draco's confused frown. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Are you intentionally trying to make this situation like the plot of a bad porn film or are you genuinely clueless?"

"Are we talking chess?" Draco snapped, clearly thinking more along the lines of pawns.

"I don't know." Harry murmured, all too aware his jeans were unbuttoned and the baffled expression on Draco's face was rapidly coiling arousal in the pit of his stomach. The next thing he knew, Draco was kissing him, winding a hand into his hair and pulling his head to one side. Vaguely aware he was making a groaning sound; Harry kissed back, grabbing Draco's hips when he felt the boy dip his hand into his jeans.

"What's that?" Draco said suddenly, breaking away.

"What?" Harry snapped, fed up of interruptions.

"Something wiggling-" Draco began, taking his hand out and rummaging in Harry's pockets instead. He took out the flag waving kangaroo and koala, which clung to his finger desperately. "What on Earth...?"

Harry grinned. "Ron and Hermione went to Australia." he explained, letting the kangaroo hop onto his palm. He dropped it in the hat where it circled round and round, still waving valiantly. Draco shook his finger but the koala held fast, leaving Draco to curse it angrily. "Keep still." Harry smiled, taking Draco's hand in his own and peeling the little bear off, letting it cling to one of the corks on the hat instead.

"Ridiculous." Draco muttered, poking the hat. "Muggle no doubt." He dipped his hand into the other pocket and pulled out Harry's phone. "Ahh." he sighed before lifting the lid of one of the ceramic pots on his counter and dropping it inside. He replaced the lid and smirked.

"Did you just put my phone in the sugar bowl?"

"No more interruptions." Draco replied, taking Harry's hand and leading him across the white open space of his apartment towards a door. Harry's heart thundered in apprehension, his hand clinging fast to the cool one leading him. Draco pushed it open and led Harry into his bedroom; a dark space decorated in black and silver. The blinds were drawn and a ceiling fan was turning above them, keeping the air cool. Harry looked at Draco in the little light that filtered into the room, gazing into his dark and hungry eyes and watching his chest rise and fall beneath a white cotton shirt, for once not done religiously up to his chin. He marvelled at the shine on Draco's hair in the shadowed light and began to slowly unbutton the shirt, savouring the moment and Draco's promiscuous leer. He'd managed half the buttons before Draco was kissing him again, making breathless sounds against his mouth and tugging Harry's t shirt over his head.

Harry followed suit and hurried to undo the rest of the buttons on Draco's shirt, pressing kisses into his jaw as he went. Draco sighed as Harry slipped his hand beneath the soft fabric, brushing it off his shoulders and running his hands over soft skin. The bed caught them as they fell back, Harry kicking his jeans off as he went. Draco wriggled beneath him on the duvet, taking his phone from his pocket and dropping it on the floor. "Draco Malfoy with a mobile phone." Harry laughed as Draco lifted is hips to undo his trousers. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"I never thought I'd see this day." he snapped in reply, throwing his jeans across the room. "So shut up and take your pants off." Harry giggled nervously, suddenly overcome with terrible stage fright. "Like this." Draco said quietly, taking off his own and sitting up on his knees. Harry swallowed, not even trying to avert his gaze from Draco's crotch. This was definitely a new experience. Sensing his trepidation, Draco leant forward. "You do want me don't you?" Harry nodded, his mouth going dry. How could Draco trust him like this?

"What if I get it wrong or something?" said Harry.

"Don't be an idiot Potter - I trust you." he snapped, taking Harry's wrists and tilting him back on the bed with a man's strength, reminding Harry that this was very different to sex with a girl. Harry's breath caught in his throat as Draco kissed his neck, his mouth travelling lower and lower until he reached the waistband of his boxers. He looked up, regarding Harry with a playful twinkle in his eye as he fingered the elastic. "Feeling calm?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.

"No."

Draco dipped his head and pulled Harry's boxers down, grasping him with cool fingers and taking him into his mouth. Harry brought his arms up and crossed them over his face, lifting his hips into the sensation and gasping in horror and delight. _Draco Malfoy had his lips around him and oh my God was it fabulous. _He threw his hips upwards, pushing against Draco's hands holding them in place. Draco lifted his head and smirked, stroking Harry languidly. "What about now?"

"Let me fuck you." Harry demanded, struggling to sit up and capture Draco in his arms.

"Wait!" Draco ordered, pulling open a wicker drawer at the side of his bed while Harry tossed his pants to one side and kissed his neck impatiently. He pulled out two packets and pressed them into Harry's hands. "You have to-"

"I'm not an idiot."

"You could have fooled me." Draco retorted as Harry tipped him onto his back and ran a hand up his thigh. Sex with a boy was a whole different Quidditch game, but Draco guided his fingers and instructed him with the same attitude he used for teaching Harry how to bake cakes. Even when Draco's cheeks flushed pink and he let out soft whimpers of pleasure that threatened to tip him over the edge, Harry found he could just about manage - until he pushed himself inside.

"Fuck." Harry gasped.

"That's the general idea."

"Oh fuck." Harry groaned into Draco's collarbone, now fully understanding what Seamus had been referring to. He pushed forward, desperate to feel more heat and pressure.

"Don't you _dare_." Draco snapped in his best Malfoy voice, his hands firm on Harry's hips. Harry kissed his mouth, silently pleading. Draco tutted. "Move slowly, will you?"

"It's hard." Harry whined petulantly, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"You're telling _me._" Draco retorted and Harry laughed his body a mass of quivering nerves as he tried to control himself for Draco's sake. Then Draco was laughing at his own jest, his head thrown back so his blond hair splayed across the pillow.

"Stop laughing." Harry said quickly as Draco's body shook around him, sending thrills down his spine. "No, stop."

"But it's been so long." Draco sighed, locking eyes with Harry. The grey sparkled with just a hint of blue and Harry watched him; the way he blinked, the way he breathed through parted lips and how every so often his brow furrowed as he adjusted to the feeling of Harry within him. Harry took one of the hands grasping his hip and linked the fingers with his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of Draco's hand, trying to keep sight of the boy through the steam that had clouded his glasses. Draco smiled and lifted his hips, pulling Harry into him. "Touch me." he whispered, capturing Harry's lips in a kiss and guiding his hand back down.

Harry supposed he knew how to touch - he'd had enough personal experience - but it was different from this angle, and knowing it was someone else. Draco gasped against his lips and Harry was spurred on by the soft moans and the clenching of Draco's legs around him, encouraging him to move. Once Harry started, he couldn't stop; he'd never felt anything quite like it. He kissed Draco passionately, their tongues moving over one another as Harry moved his hips in a messy, erratic fashion. Draco was gripping Harry's hip with one hand, the other swept his forehead, pushing back the tangle of black hair.

Harry shouted into skin, and he was sure it was Draco's name. He felt a cool hand on his face, taking his glasses off and tracing his jaw with an affectionate touch. He moved his hand generously and Draco cried out with him, bringing the world crashing down around them as Harry felt waves of pleasure, the sharpness of Draco's nails on his hips and the heat of his mouth as he crashed it against his own, kissing him fiercely in the blur.

~X~

For hours, Harry was lost in a silvery black paradise, dancing in the storm of Draco's eyes as they lay together in the dusky room. Draco kissed him slowly, a soft noise in the silence, and Harry traced his thumb over Draco's hand, their fingers linked. Occasionally Draco would close his eyes – seeming to drift off - before opening them again quickly and staring at Harry laying opposite him with a bleary, wicked smile. At some point Draco led him into the shower and there was more kissing - hot, languid kissing that threatened to tear holes in Harry's soul. They came out as one tangled form, both alive with the scent of cedar spice and Harry had to resist the urge to roll around in the fragrance like a dog might. He ran his hands through Draco's hair instead, pressing kisses into his neck and lowering him onto the bed, trying to make his mouth as clever as the blonds' on his hot skin.

"Harry." said Draco quite suddenly as they held one another on the bed, one of Harry's arms under Draco and feeling quite dead. "God that sounds awful." he corrected, his voice cracked from crying out – it seemed Harry's mouth was rather clever after all. "Potter?"

Harry smiled. "Malfoy?"

"I have to visit my father" The air prickled uncomfortably and Harry traced the line of fair pubic hair below Draco's navel he had been so surprised to find. He waited, wondering if he should speak. Draco sat up, trailing a hand down Harry's torso and wandering over to a closet in the corner of the room. Harry watched him pick out a familiar black, high collared ensemble, brushing it carefully with a pale hand. Still giddy, Harry rolled off the bed and tripped into his clothes, feeling the wall for a light switch and flicking it. He gasped as the room filled with red light. "Put it off." Draco snapped, elbowing past him in his shirt and pants and flicking it again. "It's for developing photographs."

"Can I see?"

"No." came the short reply as Draco slunk into the bathroom. Harry pulled a face behind his back and lay back on the silky bed sheets, fastening his jeans and wondering quite suddenly if he was supposed to leave now. What if Draco was done with him? What if he had taken what he'd wanted and that was it? Harry wasn't really familiar with that sort of arrangement; and the idea unsettled him terribly. Draco came back into the room with his soft hair jelled back into its old harsh style, his face looking pinched and his mouth curled. He glanced at Harry with soft eyes, and for a brief moment, Harry's brain wrestled with the conflicting emotions of long-familiar hatred and attraction.

"Do you always suit up to visit your father?" Harry asked, regarding the straight backed posture Draco had taken on.

"Oh no Potter," Draco sighed and Harry prepared himself for some satire. "I usually go in Muggle clothes with my hair falling into my eyes and tell him about how gay I am." he quipped. Harry snorted, noticing Draco was loitering in the middle of the room with his leather-bound case, watching him curiously. Propelling himself off the bed quickly, Harry stood close to the Draco who had dressed up as Malfoy.

He should leave. He _could_ leave. Instead, Harry rubbed his palms on his jeans and took a chance, catching Draco's hand in his own. Thank Merlin he had read the invitation correctly, as Draco Apparated them without another word.

.


	14. Fourteen

**FOURTEEN**

The street was bright and vivid before them, and though it was as warm as it had been all week, there was a change in the air: a promise of something new that stirred an excitement in Harry, spurred on by the cool fingers laced with his own. They walked together in silence, Draco's head held high as he led Harry across a road and into a small corner shop with a mystery purpose. He released Harry's hand and headed for the back of the shop, pausing opposite shelves of brightly coloured, cheap toys. Harry watched with growing curiosity as he picked up a small bag of marbles and pulled Harry to the till, rifling in his pockets and slowly counting the Muggle coins he found before handing them over.

"Have you got anything for me to smoke?" Draco asked him once they were outside, looking at the old shop window that was the entrance to St Mungo's hospital. Harry rifled in his pockets and took out a crumpled packet of cigarettes with – rather heart wrenchingly – only one left inside. Supposing Draco needed it more than he did, he took it out and handed it to him, finding matches in his back pocket and lighting it as it sat in his mouth. "Thanks." Draco sighed, breathing out the smoke in a shaky breath.

"You'll end up like me." Harry warned him, watching as he blew smoke from his nostrils and trying to resist the urge to do him against the shop window. Draco shrugged and took another long drag before handing the cigarette to Harry, who accepted gratefully if only a little too keenly. "Can I ask what the marbles are for?"

"You just did, and wait and see." came the response. Harry frowned and flicked the cigarette stub on the floor, immediately regretting the small act of devilry and thinking maybe he wasn't as badass as he'd been making out. "Come on then." Draco whispered, taking his hand and walking across the street with a steely expression. Their hands remained clasped all the way there, Harry finding time to glance at Draco as they rose in a silver panelled elevator to the very top, private floors. Draco avoided his gaze; apparently too busy chewing on his lip. In a pink-wallpapered corridor outside a walnut door, Draco finally released his hand. A Healer Witch with a soft face and arched eyebrows smiled at them, her mousy hair pulled off her face in a bun.

"Mr. Malfoy." she nodded, glancing at Harry with only the tiniest shred of surprise. "He's a little bit excitable today, but he's been very pleasant nonetheless." Draco nodded curtly and opened the door. Harry felt the burning gaze as he occupied himself with staring at the garish peachy flowers in a white vase next to the door, wondering if they were real or fake. Long fingers grabbed a handful of his t shirt and pulled him into the room. Harry looked up quickly, expecting to be ambushed by a deranged Lucius Malfoy, too close for comfort. He was greeted, however, with an empty room, furnished strategically and decorated with watery colours and slightly outdated patterns. It was a sitting room of some sort and although it seemed welcoming enough, Harry couldn't help but feel it was a little sterile. Draco gave him one look, and Harry knew what it meant. It was a vulnerable look, one a dog gives you when it rolls onto its back. Harry was being presented with trust and with one steely glance; Malfoy was albeit begging him not to break it. Harry lifted the corners of his mouth in a reassuring smile, feeling his eyes soften as he looked past the harsh outline Draco had presented himself as and focussed on the grey eyes, swimming dolefully.

Draco cleared his throat and turned away."Father?"

Lucius Malfoy appeared from one of two doors at the back of the room, looking immaculately groomed but somewhat sketchy: his eyes too wide and his movements too flighty. "Draco." he whispered in the same sharp voice as his son. He smiled gleefully and Harry was burdened with yet another new experience. Lucius Malfoy was adorned in white, but the clothes themselves seemed far too extravagant to be any sort of nightwear. Most surprising were the striking gold-plated goggles perched on his head, the lenses of which rotated between brilliant pink and electric green. "Did you bring more?"

"Yes." Draco said, digging in his pocket to pull the marbles out and meeting his father at the bay window where a wooden platter was set out on the sill. Harry followed warily, keeping his distance. Lucius pulled the goggles over his eyes and snatched the bag of marbles, tipping them into his hand and holding them up to the light.

"Draco." he snapped. "We have these colours." Draco took his wand from his pocket, regarding his father with a reassuring stare.

"We'll change them then." he replied, tapping each one with his wand while his father looked on through the strange goggles, shifting restlessly. "I've brought someone with me father." Draco said in a forced tone of level indifference as he handed the final marble back to his father. "Why don't you say hello." Lucius ignored his son for several seconds, still transfixed with the little glass balls and their now explosive colours. When he seemed satisfied, he pushed the goggles back up his head and glanced up, blinking at Harry in the soft light of the window. The marbles fell to the floor with several loud _plunks _and the eyes so similar to Draco's creased.

"Hello Mr. Malfoy." said Harry. Draco was picking the marbles off the floor and trying to press them back into his father's hands.

"He helped me with some photographs father, we've become good friends." Draco said soothingly, giving up and dropping the marbles onto the strange wooden platter. "Isn't that funny?" Lucius Malfoy was pulling a face Harry had seen on Draco somewhere in the past. It was one of confusion and injustice, with a creased brow and petulant pout framing the sorrowful silver-grey eyes. Harry smiled and nodded. _We shagged too, _the idiotic part of his brain wanted to add. Draco pulled his father's arm towards the platter. "Why don't you show him your collection?" Lucius tore his eyes from Harry and he stared blankly down at the wooden platter on the window sill. He shook himself and nodded reverently, glancing at Harry in bewilderment. Draco gestured for him to come over and Harry did, standing on the other side of Lucius, taking in the shadows under his eyes and the numbers tattooed on his neck from his stint in Azkaban. Harry briefly wondered why he hadn't seen Malfoy's and looked down at the strange wooden tray now noting it was some sort of palette, holding row upon row of marbles in every shade imaginable. Each one seemed to capture a different element of some sort, arranged in a brilliant hue of dark to light and warm to cold. Lucius assembled the latest additions to his collection in the palette and Harry looked at the dizzy green and rich chocolate colours Draco had transfigured.

"They're lovely." said Harry, admiring a greyish blue one that reminded him of Draco's eyes.

"Lovely?" Lucius snapped, and Harry started, glancing at Draco who was staring out of the window nonchalantly. "They're precious Mr. Potter – not _lovely_." Harry didn't think he should point out they were cheap glass play things from the Muggle world; whatever system Draco had somehow set up here seemed to be a positive one for his father, who now had his goggles back on to examine a marble that appeared to be a tiny ball of flames.

"I've brought you photographs as well." Draco said suddenly, looking at his father with a mellow smile.

"Show me." came the sharp voice again, and he followed his son to one of the washed-out sofas. Harry joined them, trying to give Draco some space as he handed his father photographs from his leather case. "What's this?" Lucius cried in excitement, peering closely at one of them with a puzzled expression.

"It's fur." Draco replied, pressing another into his father's hands. "This one's stone." Harry peered at the picture of fur Lucius was admiring and immediately recognised the chocolate brown shade as Charlie's.

"When did you take that?" Harry demanded. Draco held a dismissive, pale finger to his lips as Lucius looked at the picture of stone. As puzzling as the focus of each photograph was, Draco had almost certainly managed to capture something fascinating in each. Charlie's fur rippled with warm colour and even the picture of stone was rich in weathered character.

"Hogwarts." Lucius said, looking inquiringly at his son as he pointed at the stone. Harry saw a glimpse of The Dark Mark beneath the loose, white sleeve and noticed his nails were bitten to the quick. Once again, he wondered why he hadn't seen Draco's mark.

"Yes." Draco confirmed, handing over another picture quickly as he sensed the unsettled tone of his father's voice. "And there's silk."

"Ahh." Lucius sighed indulgently, watching the rippling black that Harry recognised immediately from his afternoon on Draco's bed. The sleepy picture brought Harry images of Draco's pale, fluttering lashes and flushed skin. "Silk." Lucius Malfoy repeated affectionately, bringing Harry out of his rapturous daydream. He turned to Harry with an eyebrow raised, his face screaming hauteur. "Wouldn't you say, Mr. Potter, that my son has an eye for colour?"

"A very good eye Mr. Malfoy, sir." Harry nodded, catching Draco pull a face in the periphery of his vision. Lucius made a small supercilious noise and flicked through the pictures once more.

~X~

Charlie was delighted to see Harry return home, even with the grumpy blond stranger, and he licked Harry's trainer as he tried to get through the door. "Drink, Squirrel?" Harry asked, flicking his eyes to the weary looking Draco as he gave Charlie a bear hug. Draco made a small noise of agreement and to Harry's delight, didn't bother complaining about the nickname. Harry poured two glasses of sherry in the living room while Draco fiddled with his record player and Charlie tried to Hoover his jeans up through his nose with frantic sniffs.

"You're not like other boys are you Potter?" Draco smirked as Harry handed him his glass and put the record player on.

"What do you mean?" Harry frowned, sitting on the sofa and lifting his glass as Charlie joined him, crushing his lap. Draco shrugged, joining Harry and pointing a warning finger at Charlie's nose when he tried to move in for a kiss. "Well you aren't like them either." Harry retorted.

"If you mean my sexuality_, _then-"

"No." Harry said firmly. "It's nothing to do with that." Draco sipped his drink, absently running a hand over Charlie's soft back, his eyes studying the fur.

"They put my father in Azkaban to begin with," he began and Harry kept quiet, sensing that once again, he was being entrusted with something important. "But he wasn't _right_." Draco frowned, tapping the side of his head. "We had enough gold to pay for private care, and when I came out of Azkaban, I could have looked after him at the Manor, but I was there with my psychotic boyfriend, a Muggle and a Squib." Harry nodded and Draco looked out of the window where the sun was sinking slowly in the sky. He laughed scornfully. "Edvard told me it wasn't my place to look after him, and of course I listened."

"It wasn't your fault-"

"My mother-" Draco continued sharply. "-wrote to me from Azkaban. She told me to take my father home – the last thing we needed were people knowing what a mess our lives were. I couldn't of course, so I wrote to her late at night and told her everything." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Everything?"

"Everything." Draco nodded. "I didn't hear back for a week, then I received a rather ugly reply; her handwriting messy – my mother never writes untidily..."

"What did she say?"

"Oh, she was furious. She called me weak, sly, pathetic, queer, a disappointment. That sort of thing. She'd just found out that I'd spent all those summers in Bulgaria buggering a Durmstrung so I'd half expected it really, but another letter came a few weeks later." Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "She told me it wasn't my fault, I didn't deserve it. She was talking a fair bit of nonsense but I couldn't say I blamed her. I got the overall impression that she just wanted us all to be okay - gay and mentally unstable or not." Harry found a smile for him and Charlie yawned. "The first time I visited my father, I didn't have the balls to go in, so I went to that shop on the opposite road."

"And bought marbles?"

"Not out of the blue, no." Draco replied. "I saw them and wondered what Muggles were doing with such pretty jewels, before I realised they were just glass." He tipped his head back and rubbed his eyes. "When I saw my father, he was in a bad way. He was unsettled and angry. They - They'd been shaving him..." Draco paused, miming shaving with his fingers. "-they'd cut-"

"It's okay." Harry said quickly, grabbing Draco's hand and shifting closer to him.

"I don't blame them." He breathed. "My father did _terrible_ things; the least they could do is give him a rough shave to exact revenge." Harry shook his head. He'd have given Lucius Malfoy more than a rough shave after everything he'd done, but _never_ when he wasn't in his right mind. "The first thing I thought of was gold. I calculated how much I could possibly afford to bribe the Healers with into taking better care of him. Then I realised how stupid that was, and how no amount of money was ever going to make anyone forget. It runs deep, the war, everything before it..." Harry nodded in agreement and Draco looked down at their clasped hands, Harry idly twisting Draco's ring on his finger. He smiled wistfully, shaking his head. "I found the Healer in charge of his care and tried out some honesty. I begged her to have mercy, asked her to find some sympathy for him."

"What did she do?"

"She was stunned, and she made me tea – clearly a Muggle-born. She told me how difficult he was, how he sat and refused to do anything but look out of the window. She told me to do something as his son to help him and promised me no one would hurt him again."

"And they didn't?"

"Not to my knowledge." Draco replied. "I would watch him staring out of the window and try to make conversation, telling him lies about how I was successful now and I'd made good connections and travelled all over the place. He didn't respond once, not until I brought some photographs." Draco took the ring off his finger and turned it over in his hands thoughtfully before grasping Harry's, sliding the ring onto each finger in turn like a jeweller. "I'd struck gold: as soon as he saw the pictures he snatched them and quite quickly, I realised he'd developed some sort of fascination with colour. That's what gave me the idea to bring him marbles." Harry bit his lip, watching Draco frown as he tried to free his ring from Harry's ring finger. "When I was young – Merlin, you're a fat lump – when I was young, my father would study jewels with those obscure goggles you saw him with. It never occurred to me that he might have a thing for colour."

"But your Manor," Harry began, frowning. "It's so dark, and even the peacocks are albino."

"Yes of course." Draco retorted. "He was brought up like that. Malfoys are a dark, Pure-blooded family, taught to respect tradition and sobriety."

"What the hell is sobriety?"

"Gloom." Draco laughed. "Being miserable." He leaned back, stretching against the arm of the sofa. "My father thought colour should be contained in small forms of opulence; he never thought to surround himself with it." Harry nodded; grabbing Draco's hands and pulling him close again. "The marbles excited him; he calls them precious because they're beautiful, not because he thinks their worth something. For the first time in his life, he's found enchantment in something aside from wealth or power. He's learned to use his eyes."

"A picture's worth a thousand words." Harry said quietly, thinking of Luna.

"What?"

"Just something a friend said." Harry replied. "Are you still working on that article?"

Draco snorted in response. "I wouldn't call it an article, more a collection of pictures. I just couldn't find the words to go with them. They speak for themselves."

"Exactly."

"Any more nuggets of wisdom beneath that nest of hair, Potter?" Draco teased.

"Shut up." Harry sighed, thinking of Lucius Malfoy with his marble collection. Then he remembered the mark on his wrist and the numbers on his neck.

"Your father," he began hurriedly. "He still had his mark. Why -"

"Oh you're so predictable." Draco muttered. "It's nothing a little magic won't hide – once Voldemort died of course. I mean, I'm hardly going to walk around with it now am I?" He took his wand from his back pocket and unbuttoned the cuff on his left arm. With a tap, the magic rinsed away and the Dark Mark appeared on his pale skin, looking faded like old, washed out jeans. Harry touched it, experimentally. "Rather handy that spell." Draco smirked, tapping the left side of his head, just below his ear. Harry reached out a hand and tilted his face to look at the harsh numbers printed on his skin, then something shiny caught his eye and Harry gasped, looking at the tiny gold ring in the top of Draco's earlobe.

"Is that an earring?"

"Absolutely not." Draco said hurriedly, trying to bring his wand back up to conceal it. Harry caught the wrists in his hand. "That's an earring!"

"I was challenged, Potter!" Draco snapped.

"Challenged?" Harry grinned.

"Cherry seemed to think it was incredibly painful, and she thought I wouldn't be able to take it."

"Could you?"

"Of course I could!" Draco snapped, swatting Harry away.

"I don't think you should hide them Draco." Harry smiled, trying to admire the earring. "They're all part of who you are and what you've been through." Draco pulled a face, mocking him, but brought his hand up to Harry's forehead, sweeping the hair away to look at his scar. "Are you hiding anything else?" Harry grinned. "A tattoo or something?"

"Yes. I have one of a squirrel on my derrière." Draco drawled, sending Harry into fits of giggles.

"Just one more thing," Draco sighed, unbuttoning the front of his shirt, silencing Harry immediately. He touched his wand to his chest and very faint, thin scars appeared, making Harry's cheeks flush red. "Naughty boy." Draco hissed, practically delighted to have something to hold against Harry, who was now tracing them with his finger. "You made a lasting impression didn't you?" Harry looked up at his face, taking in the playful, scolding expression. Harry didn't think he'd ever scarred anyone. He'd never wanted to either, not after bearing the burden of his own for so long. Yet here was Draco, scarred by Voldemort, scarred by Azkaban and scarred by him. Not to mention the piercing brought about by his own stupidity. Draco's eyes were soft now and Harry took the opportunity to kiss him, sweeping the chocolate lump that was Charlie out of his way so he could move close to the boy. "We're kissing now are we?" Draco asked, pressing his hand into Harry's t shirt.

"Yeah, and the rest."

"Where _do_ you get your energy?" Draco sighed as Harry tugged him off the sofa.

"_All the world is Birthday cake/  
so take a slice but not too much._" George Harrison sang as Harry switched the record player off with a lazy flick of his hand, pulling Draco out of the room.

"You listen to nonsense." Draco muttered.

"Why do you always insult me when we're about to shag?" Harry sighed, pushing Draco into his bedroom. Draco sat on the bed, pulling Harry down with him.

"I get a little kick out of it, I suppose." he shrugged. "It turns me on."

"Bloody hell." Harry groaned and hurried to tear Draco's shirt from his body. He kissed him hungrily, undoing his trousers and realising it was a long repressed fantasy of his to get Malfoy out of his formal attire.

"Are you going to shag me again?" Draco asked, his finger's tracing the muscles in Harry's abdomen.

"I was thinking – um...maybe the other way around? If you wanted to." Harry murmured. Draco let out a harsh bark of laughter and began removing Harry's clothes.

"Oh, you're going to like this Harry Potter." he growled, making Harry's breath catch in his throat as his shirt was ripped over his head and his jeans were pulled off him. "I'm going to make you scream."

~X~

Harry didn't quite scream, but the noises escaping him were just as loud and twice as strange. Draco kissed his burning skin and Harry swore and laughed all at once. "How do you do it?" he gasped in one breath as Draco stretched and filled him with a burning sensation that still managed to be pleasurable.

"Usually I just shut my mouth and enjoy the sensation." Draco bit, making Harry groan.

"What am I doing?" Harry sighed, Draco's mouth hot and wet on his neck, making him shiver.

"Me?" Draco offered. "Technically it's the other way around..." Harry managed a wheeze of laughter, far too concerned with sympathizing with girls. Dear Merlin this was something else. He liked being fucked by a boy and he was gay and what were his friends going to say and hadn't they all found out and holy fuck he was going to come if Draco did that again.

"Fucking fuck." Harry cried squeezing his eyes shut and accepting the messy kiss pressed into his mouth, grinding his hips with Draco's in a desperate frenzy and coming all over Draco's stomach.

"Oh God." Draco moaned into Harry's neck, their skin sticky. "Too much sex." Harry grunted in response, peering at the dark mark on the wrist next to his face and running his hands down Draco's back.

"Draco?"

"Mm."

"My arse hurts." Harry mumbled. He started as Draco let out an explosive laugh into his neck.

"Shut up then." he whispered in response, and within minutes, his breathing was slow and heavy in Harry's ear. Harry traced his spine, thinking of the Tuesday night he had spent comforting the drunk Malfoy and how much he had wanted this. Only a week, his conscience reminded him. Somehow all of this had happened in just a week. Tomorrow Harry would go back to work gay, and all thanks to Malfoy. His head hurt to think about it, and it was no wonder Draco was out cold; the sex was physically and emotionally draining. Harry pressed a kiss onto Draco's soft hair, his heart aching.

"Goodnight squirrel." he whispered.

"Mmm...Potter." Draco murmured softly in response.


	15. Fifteen

**FIFTEEN**

Harry slept with Malfoy draped over him like a cat, blond hair tickling his ear and one arm wound protectively around his middle. The last coherent thought he had before he fell asleep was how someone so tall could carry so little weight, and when Malfoy began sighing softly and petulantly in his sleep, Harry almost stayed awake to listen. At some point in the night he was vaguely aware of being kissed, the scent of cedar spice all over him, his eyelids heavy. Harry was euphoric, and when he awoke the next morning he was alone.

On the pillow next to him was a note, and Harry looked at it reproachfully, refusing to look until he had gotten himself out of bed, else he might not get out of bed at all. He made himself a coffee, and was halfway into his work clothes before he snatched the paper and unfolded it, his heart thundering erratically.

_Potter,_

_You talk in your sleep - mostly nonsense about toast and brambles. What I mean to say is there's a magic in you unlike anything I've ever known. (You perfect bastard). Doesn't the sun just shine out of your shapely arse? I hate you for this Scar-Head, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to take a stand today. I'll never let anyone walk all over me again, I promise you._

_Draco x  
(How lucky you are to get a 'kiss')_

Harry supposed it was a nice note, in a weird, Draco sort of way, and he tucked it under his pillow and continued to dress for work, singing to Charlie as he went. The moment he stepped out of the door, he was assailed by a torrent of rain from the grey sky above. Harry Apparated, not really bothered about getting wet, but surprised by the sudden weather change.

"You've been in the papers again." Nathaniel said as soon as Harry bounded through the door, throwing his briefcase onto his desk and doing a small twirl in his high spirits. "And you most definitely got lucky last night."

"I don't care." Harry retorted, and he really didn't. "And I most definitely did." He plonked himself onto his chair and spun across the room, almost colliding with the fireplace as he went. "What about you and Layla?"

Nathaniel simpered, fiddling with a roll of parchment on his desk. "Well I found this on my desk this morning." he grinned, picking up the parchment. "_You have such pretty eyes Nathaniel! Kiss-kiss-kiss, a drawing of a heart, -L_." he read as Harry threw back his head and laughed, thinking of his own note this morning and how very soppy it all was.

"What if she makes you wear hats?" Harry asked, gliding back over to his desk and rummaging for a quill in his desk drawer.

"She could make me wear frilly knickers on my head if she wanted." Nathaniel sighed.

"You'd probably love that, you perv."

"Probably."

~X~

Halfway through the morning, Harry received an owl from Hermione asking him to meet her for lunch. He could bring Ron if he wanted to, she said, but she just wanted to talk to him. Harry guessed he was in for a lecture, and the thought of it pleased him greatly. Hadn't it been a whole day since the last one? Nathaniel spent the rest of his morning scribbling notes to Layla, occasionally asking Harry if it was acceptable to compliment her rear end or make other suggestive comments.

Just before lunch, Harry grew restless and fidgety. He set down his quill, letting his mind wander to Malfoy, remembering his article – or rather – collection of photographs that was due in this evening. Harry wondered what it was like and sighed, glancing at his watch and deciding to go to lunch early. He looked over at Nathaniel who was running a hand over his jelled locks and standing up. "Where are you off to?" Harry asked him.

"Visiting Layla." he replied nonchalantly.

"What, down the corridor?" Harry smirked. Nathaniel shrugged and they left their office together, Harry shaking his head at his friend. Stalking down the hallway towards them was Grimsby, his moustache rippling furiously. He cracked his knuckles and pointed to Nathaniel.

"You." he barked. Nathaniel started and Harry glanced at him, trying to conceal his smirk and wondering if he'd been caught in the act of exchanging love letters. "With me now." Grimsby continued, disappointing Harry, who nodded in farewell to his friend and continued down the corridor as Grimsby grumbled on. "Disturbance in the new Muggle buildings outside the city. Spellfire and all sorts." Harry stopped the blood running cold in his veins.

"Where?" he demanded, turning back to look at Grimsby's sombre face.

"Back to work Potter." he snapped, eyes flashing furiously. "No matter you should be meddling in." He scoffed. "Any more than you already have." Nathaniel twigged a split second after Harry and he called out to him as Harry spun on the spot.

"Potter, no!"

Harry reappeared in the freezing rain, every nerve in his body standing to attention. He was already running into the building when he heard the two cracks behind him, and Nathaniel and Grimsby were hot on his tail. Harry slammed his hand on the lift button, pushing it incessantly as Grimsby marched up to him from behind. "You'll regret this Potter." he snarled. "You're going to land yourself in trouble!"

"Just go back, Harry!" Nathaniel cried. Harry ignored them both, skidding across the tiled foyer and tripping up the stairs, flight after flight with his heart in his mouth, wondering if he'd ever reach the top. When he did, his body jolted at the noise coming from number eleven, and with his vision blurred, he charged at the door with his shoulder, feeling pain explode in his joint.

Draco's earlier words of promise leapt at him. "I_'m going to take a stand today..." _The door splintered and weakened, and Harry kicked it with his foot, only remembering his wand when the door had swung open, crashing against the wall and revealing chaos.

The glass coffee table was smashed; the furniture was turned over; the stretch of window was scorched with spell-damage and in the corner of the room, Edvard had Draco pressed against the wall and Draco was crying, his face bloody and his eye black. "I'm sorry!" he wailed, his voice hysterical. Harry moved forward. "I warned you Ed!" Edvard coughed and stumbled back, clutching his side. Draco crumpled to the floor and Harry ran to stoop at his side, trying to prise open the hand that was clutching a jagged shard of glass, sending trickles of blood running down his wrist.

"Draco." Harry said softly, vaguely aware that Edvard was on his knees somewhere behind him, grunting and spitting blood on the floor.

"Not the wall!" Draco cried, seeing Harry for the first time, his free hand grabbing a handful of Harry's robes. "I told him!"

"Shhh. Let go. Let go of the glass squirrel." The trembling hand unclenched and the glass fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry!" Draco wailed again as Harry tried to re-button his jeans and shirt, his stomach turning at the thought of Edvard's hands on him. He heard heavy footfalls on the stairs and he hauled Draco upwards, Apparating without a second thought. "I'm sorry." Draco whispered when they appeared in the severe light of one of St Mungo's corridors, Harry unsure of their whereabouts.

"It's going to be okay Draco." he soothed, trying to pull the bloody hands away from his robes and hold them. "We're going to fix it." A middle aged Healer with dark skin started at the sight of Harry as she made her way down the corridor. Harry approached her, pulling Draco by the wrist. "He needs help. His hand..." He held it out to the witch who took a moment to right herself before her instinct kicked in, and she peered through her glasses at the pale, bloodied hand before her. Harry saw how deep the gash was.

"In here." she said sternly, walking briskly into one of the medical rooms after glancing sharply at Harry.

"Harry?" Draco began, turning to face him with a terrified look in his eyes.

"It's fine. It's all going to be fine." Harry murmured as the witch sat Draco down on the hospital bed, telling him to be still and hold his hand up in the air. Draco listened to her, his other hand quivering in Harry's. He looked at his hand, as if unsure how it ended up the way it was, glancing at Harry every now and then with a lost and questioning expression on his face. Harry gave him a reassuring smile each time, feigning nonchalance and squeezing his hand.

"Now hold still please." The Healer ordered brusquely as she washed Draco's hand with warm, sterile scented water. Draco winced, his eyes searching Harry's as the witch dropped Dittany on the wound and brought the tissue into a scar with her wand. "Did you want me to treat your face?" she asked as Harry brushed the soft hair from Draco's eyes, feeling the forced calm vanish as he wondered if Edvard was still alive and whether this bold move was going to cost him his job. Draco shook his head and scrambled off the bed.

"Thank you." Harry breathed, rummaging in his pockets for gold as Draco scurried into the corridor. He pulled out a galleon and tried to press it into the witch's hand. She refused, furrowing her brow.

"Mr. Potter," she began. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you're dicing with dragons." Harry put his gold back in his pocket.

"That's not the right expression." he retorted before following Draco out into the corridor. He was stood in the middle of the hallway with his eyes closed. Harry touched his back tentatively. "Draco?"

"I've ruined everything." he whispered. Harry snatched his wrists.

"Look at me." He snapped. "Edvard ruined everything. Not you. We're going to tell them the truth. I'm going to make sure they know what he did to you. He'll suffer Draco."

"I hurt him!" Draco wailed and Harry pulled him close, trying to understand Draco's logic. Maybe if he'd let someone hurt him for so long it would be lurid to suddenly retaliate. Harry ran a trembling hand through his hair, looking at the raised scratches on his neck, the angry red marks and the fresh bruises.

"Oh, Draco." he sighed. The noise of approaching footfall drew near, and Harry knew his time was cut short. Draco heard it too and he grabbed Harry's face, his eyes furious.

"You need to tell my father I'll be away for a while. Lie. Say it's a business trip -" Grimsby rounded the corner, his expression formidable and Nathaniel followed him, desperately spinning some sort of excuse for Harry.

"I'm going to put it right Draco." Harry hissed, grabbing hold of the pale wrists either side of his face.

"You're in for it!" Grimsby practically roared and Harry couldn't be sure which one of them he was talking to. Draco pressed a searing kiss onto Harry's mouth and Harry felt the world fall from beneath his feet. Then Draco was wrenched from his grasp and Harry opened his eyes to see Grimsby throw him against the opposite wall, twisting his arms at awkward angles behind his back.

"Stop it! Stop doing that to him!" Harry snarled, launching at Grimsby just as Nathaniel flung out his arms to stop him.

"Calm down, Potter! You're going to end up in trouble!"

"He'll be in trouble when I've finished here, don't you worry." Grimsby growled. "Twenty years old aren't you Potter? Playing with the big men because you're the Boy-Who-Lived." Grimsby spat on the floor at Harry's feet and twisted Draco's arm further, drawing a cry from his throat. Harry snarled again, struggling against Nathaniel's restraint. "You're a boy, Potter. A stupid boy who got lucky."

"Just take him in Grimsby." Nathaniel said, an edge to his voice.

"Watch it Grey." Grimsby snapped, and with a final twist of Draco's arm, he Apparated. Harry roared, shoving Nathaniel out of his way and hurling his fist at the dry wall opposite him.

"What if you lose your job?" Nathaniel murmured.

"I don't give a fuck at the moment if I'm honest mate. I really don't." Harry spat. "Did he live?" he added, for Draco's sake.

"He's fine." Nathaniel breathed. "They almost lost him but they healed the internal damage and now he's recovering."

"Bastard."

"What...What happened?"

"You'll get to know Nathaniel. Everyone will know, I swear to it." Harry growled. Nathaniel nodded slowly, breathing out a shaky breath and rubbing his face. Harry counted his breaths, rubbing absently at his knuckles.

"Do you want to go back now?"

"You go." Harry snapped, striding down the corridor. "I've got something to do."

~X~

When Harry was young and still oblivious to his magical blood, he had been lonely. It was the kind of loneliness that threatened to stretch onwards forever, and he came to see it as part of his life. On one occasion, just the one, Harry had a friend. A boy from a travelling family that had moved into the old retail park on the edge of town had approached him with a crooked smile and golden curls. They hadn't spoken once, but had spent the day racing through the undergrowth with sticks and climbing the splintery, winter trees until dusk fell and Harry knew he had to be home. When Harry had returned the next day, alive with the prospect have having a companion, the family had moved on, leaving Harry furious with himself for expecting anything different...

"Auror Potter." a wizard Healer said when he saw Harry approach, his expression cautious.

"I need to see Mr. Malfoy."

"I'm afraid you can't-"

"I'm an Auror and I need to see Mr. Malfoy." Harry snapped, bristling. The Healer nodded, gesturing to the door and bowing his head. Harry pushed it open, surprised to find Lucius Malfoy sat on one of the pale sofas, rolling a crystal clear marble in his hands. His eyes found Harry's and he stared at him in contempt. "Mr. Malfoy." Harry said by way of greeting, moving closer to the sofa. "I'm here to pass on a message from Draco."

"Are you now?"

Harry ignored the dry tones and cleared his throat. "Draco's going to be travelling for some time. He's away on business -"

"Tell me Mr. Potter," Lucius interjected in his clipped tones, and for a moment, Harry forgot he was mentally unstable. "Why are you covered in blood?"

"My job – it's...havoc."

"Of course it is." Lucius scoffed, making a swift movement and throwing the marble at Harry, where it stopped an inch from his nose, hovering perfectly still in the air. Harry blinked at it, wondering if the Healers knew he was capable of such magic without a wand. Lucius laughed indulgently. "For the first time in my life, Mr. Potter, I'm being played for a fool. If it wasn't so insulting I think I'd enjoy it."

"I'm sure Draco will write-"

"My son lies to me every time he visits. Did you know?" Harry dipped his head, wondering why Lucius was being so difficult today. "He had a friend-"

"Mr. Malfoy, I think Draco just wants you to be happy."

Lucius ignored him, pulling the marble back through the air and into his hand. "I'm no fool Mr. Potter. I saw the look in my son's eyes when he came home after his fourth year at Hogwarts, and every other time he returned from his little holidays in Bulgaria. His friend visited, I saw my son walk with a limp, watched his mother cluck over bruises he had forgotten to heal. I watched my son break, did you know? I saw him fall apart - quite literally - knowing I had played a part in it." He paused, deep in thought and Harry wasn't sure what to do or say at all. He scrubbed his head and sat at the other end of the sofa, as far away from Lucius as possible.

"I'm going to put things right for your son."

"Really?" The patronising tone was more than Harry could bear.

"Yeah." he retorted breathlessly. "Yeah I am." He stood up. "Excuse me Mr. Malfoy, but I mean what I say." Harry left the room, taking in a last glimpse of Lucius Malfoy with a a clenched jaw and somewhat pained expression.

~X~

The moment he Apparated into the atrium of The Ministry, Harry felt all eyes swivel towards him. Conversations hung unfinished in mid-air so their participants could turn and stare. Harry ignored them, running a hand through his hair and trying not to feel self conscious about the blood all over him. The world seemed to move in slow motion as the people around him tried to understand the boy who'd always thrown them into confusion. Harry saw the Daily Prophets in their hands, and saw his own face on the cover, accepting a cigarette from Draco only yesterday.

'**BAD AUROR?**' - the title read, and Harry reached the lift and slammed his hand on the button.

He was alone in there aside from Layla, who blinked at him warily, trying a terrified smile when she caught his eye. Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the lift to stop moving.

"There he is." Grimsby spat viciously the moment the doors opened. A small gathering of Aurors were circled around him, apparently listening to whatever story he had to tell. Grimsby cracked his knuckles menacingly. "Kingsley wants to see you boy. I hope he teaches you a lesson you won't forget!" Harry shouldered past him, heading up the thick carpeted corridor and leaving the murmurings of his colleagues behind him.

He'd missed lunch; Hermione would be delirious with worry if word hadn't already got to Ron, who'd surely tell her. Harry didn't care presently, and he knocked on the door of Kingsley's office with more force than he really intended. "You can go straight in Mr. Potter." the receptionist said, startling Harry. She gave him a small smile and went back to her scribbling, leaving Harry to push open the door to Kingsley's office. It was a spacious room, one he'd been in once or twice before, and the coat stand reached out to feel him as he entered, trying to find something to take from him. Harry shrugged it off, and shuffled towards the desk Kingsley was sat behind, reading over several sheets of parchment. Harry shivered anxiously and cleared his throat.

"Sir?" Kingsley looked up at Harry and his features assembled in disappointment, making Harry feel all the worse.

"Harry." he sighed in his deep voice.

"There's been a mistake, sir. Draco Malfoy-"

"I don't know Draco Malfoy, Harry." Kingsley interrupted and Harry fell silent, waiting to see what he had to say. "I don't know what happened or why, but I'm quite sure you could tell me the truth."

"Yes! If you'd let me explain, sir, I could-"

"But," Kingsley went on, leaning back in his chair. "There is nothing we can do at this point, and you've made a fatal error."

"I wasn't thinking. I – I didn't think."

"You're good at what you do, Harry – very well." Kingsley sighed. "You learn quickly, you've got a strong spirit. Therefore, I am to blame for this."

"I don't understand." Harry frowned.

"You're twenty years of age are you not?"

Harry nodded, resisting the urge to add: "_Twenty-one in July!"_

Kingsley shook his head solemnly and for a moment, looked deeply saddened. "It never occurred to me that you'd need time to settle after the war, that you were too young. You've always taken on such great responsibility Harry. You surprised us all by bearing burdens the rest of us could only ever imagine. It was enough to make us all forget your age - how very important it was that you had time to grow."

"Sir, I understand what you're trying to say but I'm fine, really."

"Really? Harry, you've become involved in a speculative romance with someone thought to be your enemy. You've acted irrationally, erratically and - like all young people -on your most fickle emotions."

Harry swallowed. "They aren't fickle."

"If you're saying it's love..." Kingsley smiled and Harry felt himself redden; the idea of Malfoy and love made him feel giddy. "Harry it doesn't matter what you feel outside of work, but what you did today broke every code you've been taught."

"I'm sorry."

"You will be Harry, one day you will be." Kingsley nodded, taking a sheet of parchment from his desk and dipping a quill into his jewel encrusted inkwell.

"I have every faith in you Harry. I'm giving you a week, just a week to get your thoughts together. I'm sure you'll want to speak on Mr. Malfoy's behalf? You'll need time to find the words for that."

"You're suspending me." Harry said flatly, it wasn't really a question.

"Officially." came the reply. "What you did was wrong, and you need to understand that." Harry nodded, watching Kingsley roll up the parchment and bind it magically with his wand, winding slivers of gold around the scroll. "Take some time to think Harry." he added, his eyes penetrative as he handed the scroll to Harry. "Drop that off at the front desk."

"Thank you." Harry said quietly, feeling like a student again, sent to the Headmaster for jumping the gun.

~X~

By the time Harry was back in his flat, his skin itched from the stares he'd withstood and his ears still hissed with whispers. Charlie couldn't quite understand what Harry was doing home so early and he gave him a questioning sniff, licking his trousers for good measure. Harry ignored him, tearing the needle off the playing record.

"_I get by with a little help from my-"_

The silence was cold and the rain hammered against the window outside. Harry locked himself in his bedroom, curling his fist around the note Draco had left him.

Fuck Draco for being such an idiot.

Fuck Edvard for what he'd done to Draco.

Fuck his ineptitude to stop it all.


	16. Sixteen

I would like to apologise in advance to anyone who knows anything about law.

_MissSnakeyBoots_**  
**

* * *

**SIXTEEN**

"Then the knight squished the dragon into a nothing and the end." Teddy cried dramatically.

"I don't like that one." Harry grumbled.

"That's because you're a grumpy."

"A grumpy what?"

"Little boy." Teddy retorted. Harry frowned. Sat underneath his duvet with Teddy in a shadowy tent that was supposed to be their castle, it was easy to forget everything else.

"Harry." Hermione said softly in the region of his bedroom door. "Can I talk to you?"

"I'm being a Godfather." Harry replied grouchily.

"It is Teddy's bedtime." she reasoned.

"It isn't. I'm the big boy." Teddy squealed. Harry sighed.

"One more story Teddy."

"You tell one. Tell me the one about the brothers."

"That's a sad one." Harry said softly, wriggling out of their hiding place and scooping Teddy into his arms. "Hermione's good at that one." Hermione rolled her eyes and followed Harry into Teddy's little bedroom, watching Harry tuck him beneath the eiderdown and ruffle his hair.

"There were once three brother's travelling down a road at twilight," Hermione began as Harry left the room in search of Ron. He found him in the fridge, making sure Harry's food wasn't being neglected. Harry left him to it, leaning his back against the sink and staring blankly at the opposite wall.

"Who made this?" Ron asked, waving a pot of cranberry jam in Harry's face.

"Your mum." Harry replied. "Sympathy gift."

"N'aww," Ron sighed, spooning it into his mouth. "She still loves you, queer or not." Harry found a small laugh and immediately felt some of the strain leech away. He was halfway through his suspension, and had so far only managed to sink further into misery. He'd sent Draco an owl, promising him justice but had received no reply. All of this only led him to question what the hell had happened during the last week to turn his world upside down.

"Right." Hermione breathed as she entered the kitchen a while later, closing the door behind Charlie who followed her. "Sit down." Harry sat obediently at the table opposite Hermione, Charlie's chin resting on his knee. Struggling with the jam jar, Ron followed suit, trying his best to look solemn. "Harry, whatever you decide to pursue with Draco Malfoy is none of our business."

"Can we not talk about him?"

"Yes. I - _We_ just wanted to let you know that. Didn't we Ron?" Ron nodded and Harry mumbled a thank you. "I also wanted to make sure that you like your job."

"Obviously."

"Harry, I mean it." she huffed. "Do you really like it? Does it satisfy you?" Ron sniggered into the jar and Hermione shot him a sharp glare.

"Well I like Nathaniel." Harry sighed. "I like doing good. I like...the uniform."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and frowned. "When is Malfoy's trial?"

"Month." Harry mumbled. "Just under."

"Right." she said. "Right then." Harry could almost hear her assembling her internal notes. "You need to go back to work, keep your head down and think about what you'll say in his defence."

"You can hardly defend it though." Ron muttered.

"Ron, we weren't there!" Hermione snapped, trying to be reasonable. "We don't know anything about it."

"So tell us Harry!" Ron cried. "What is it with Malfoy?" Harry ran his hands over Charlie's velvety ears, listening to him sigh.

"Malfoy's an idiot." he said simply. "He always has been." He felt his friends still, and he didn't need to look up to know they were exchanging concerned glances. "He followed his father until the very end. The blind following habit, his arrogance, his immaturity, it all saw him lose his virginity at fourteen to the aggressive psychopath from Durmstrung, Edvard."

"Bloody hell."

"When his father lost rationale and ended up in care for his mental health, Draco fell back on the very same psycho, who broke his spirit and stamped out any fight he had left." Harry paused for a moment, brewing fury for Edvard. "But he had friends, two real friends for the first time in his life. He left Edvard, he took up photography, and he managed to get through to his father."

"Then he found you again." Hermione added softly.

"I'm not sure what happened there." Harry sighed. "It just...happened." He noticed Ron had put his jam jar down to listen. "He left me a note that morning. He promised to take a stand." Hermione sighed. "He must have told Edvard where to find him in some mad moment of confidence." Harry shook his head. "Draco's not weak, but Edvard's strong...and mindless. I don't blame Draco for defending himself."

"Oh Harry, I'm sure everyone will understand!" Hermione cried, eyes swimming with emotion.

"But they don't want to understand!" Harry cried, balling his fists with the injustice. "No one respects him, no one fears him - he's got nothing, he's a nobody. All anyone can see is a trouble maker, fresh out of Azkaban."

"You can't think like that mate."

Harry shook his head, looking at his friends fiercely. "I won't let anyone quell him in that trial."

~X~

Harry spent the rest of his suspension in a frenzy. He went running every evening, pushing himself around the circuit twice until his body had no breath left to give. He wrote draft upon draft for Draco's defence, chain smoking in his kitchen and breaking his own rules about smoking indoors. Charlie followed him around the flat anxiously, ears folding back when Harry let out the occasional roar of frustration or threw a cushion across the room. He was riling himself up for a fight and he knew it. Ginny stopped by on Sunday night, bringing flowery scents, her hair plaited loosely down her back.

"You're going about this the wrong way, Harry." she warned him. Harry ignored her, heating the home-made soup she had brought for him like it was a military test.

"Excellent," he barked when he tasted it.

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

~X~

The whispers didn't surprise him when he returned to work; neither did the stares or the raised eyebrows. What did surprise him was finding Ron in his office, making small talk with Nathaniel about the view from their window. "Look who's back." Nathaniel nodded, grinning at Harry. "Bad boy."

"Haha." Harry offered drily, shaking the rain out of his hair. "Not that I'm pleased to see you Ron, but what brings you here?"

"'Mione." he sighed, watching Harry throw his briefcase onto the desk. "She wants to make sure you get settled in." Harry rolled his eyes but his heart clenched affectionately. It was just like Hermione to order Ron to keep an eye on him in case he should have any more unexpected, funny turns.

"I'm sure I'll be fine." Harry sighed.

"I've been showing your dear friend Ronald my collection." Nathaniel smirked, waggling his eyebrows and tilting his head towards the wall next to his desk covered in page three girl cut outs from Muggle newspapers. "Loved it." he added and Ron looked sheepish, clearing his throat.

"Well, now you're back and everything's fine..." he trailed off and Harry grinned."I'll meet you for lunch." He left, tripping over the doorstop as he went.

"Stop influencing my friends you saucy bastard." Harry jeered, sitting down at his desk.

"He needs no influencing, that one!" Nathaniel retorted, leaning back on his chair and yawning. Harry thought back to their time at Hogwarts and how Ron always had been that little bit more interested in girls than he was. It made perfect sense now of course.

"How's your love life?" Harry sighed feeling painfully like a girl. Nathaniel seemed more than happy to respond however and leant forward on his chair with a delighted grin.

"She came over mine Friday," Harry braced himself. "Spent the whole weekend-"

"I can imagine." Harry interjected as Nathaniel started making strange, obscene gestures with his hands. Nathaniel winked.

~X~

Harry had tried several times, without any response, to owl Draco about the trial. When the day finally rolled around, Harry wondered if Draco even wanted his defence, but remembering his promise, he made his way down to the courtroom, flushed with anticipation. Draco, of course, was nowhere to be seen, but several members of the jury were outside, talking in hushed tones. Of course this would be a juicy trial, Harry seethed.

"Watch yourself Harry." Nathaniel said from behind him, Ron hovering nearby.

"Why are you here?"

"Because forget nervous, you're one big, walking nerve, Potter." Nathaniel replied.

"Hermione's going to kill one of us she's so worried." Ron added. Harry frowned inwardly, feeling guilty – all of this had been his fault. He shouldn't have worried his friends so much about this crazy infatuation, especially a crazy infatuation that was shaping up to be one way...Harry refused to think about what he and Draco had together, and for the present moment, concentrated on the job at hand: righting injustice.

"That's the guy isn't it?" Nathaniel said in a hushed whisper, and Harry glanced quickly upwards, reeling in horror as Edvard strolled down the corridor in a suit with a severe looking witch, probably his attorney.

"That's him." Harry replied through gritted teeth.

"Christ. Look at those shoulders." said Ron, huddling close to them. "I recognise him, Harry." Nodding with his jaw clenched, Harry let out a small growl.

"You'll show him Harry." Nathaniel offered stirringly, slapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry sighed just as a wizard with a silvery beard approached them, his frowning expression making him appear frog-like.

"Mr. Potter?" he announced, one hand on the front of his formal robes, the other supporting several roles of parchment. "Draco Malfoy has expressed his desires that you do not speak in his defence."

"I'm sorry?" Harry breathed as Nathaniel and Ron murmured speculatively behind him. The wizard sighed, adjusting his spectacles and looking down at Harry wearily.

"He does not want you in this trial." The words burrowed into Harry's flesh, screaming rejection at him. _Draco didn't want him here?_"You may return to you work."

Return to his work? Why the fuck was Draco making requests like that? He felt a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off furiously, heart hammering in confusion. Had he gotten this all wrong? A thick laugh interrupted his thoughts, sending chills down his spine.

"He's different isn't he?" said Edvard, his attorney glancing at him warily. "Very, ah- what's the word...peculiar."

"Come on Harry." Ron said quietly, nudging him towards the stairs. Harry gritted his teeth and made to follow.

"Did you fuck him, Harry Potter?" The question echoed off the marble walls in the silence that had fallen. Jury members were watching the scene with open mouths and Edvard's attorney had blanched a rather worrying shade of white. Harry had frozen, bristling with a white hot fury that buzzed over his skin. He was vaguely aware of seeing Nathaniel's ridiculous, rabbit-like worrying expression before he spoke.

"What did you say?" Harry growled, turning to face the barrel-chested man.

"_I said,_ did you fuck him?" Edvard asked through the dangerously radiant grin, the one that made it's appearance before the man lost control of himself completely.

"Don't say another word." Harry said, his voice sounding strangely hollow and unfamiliarly low. Edvard widened his smile until it threatened to crack his face. He let out a torrent of laughter.

"Come on, Potter." Nathaniel said loudly, grabbing Harry's shoulder with a firm hand.

"He likes it best against the wall-" Harry pulled himself out of Nathaniel's grasp, ignoring Ron's shouts. "-very hard. Oh, are you coming for me Harry Potter?" Harry swung his fist into the manic grin, his fist exploding hot with blood and his vision blurred. Several strong hands pulled him back, grabbing his arms and stopping him from raining punch after punch on the bloody, smiling face. There were outcries of horror and Edvard was grinning, spitting his own blood on the floor and laughing hysterically, the noise almost distressed.

"You sick bastard!" Harry spat as he was torn away from the scene. "He was fourteen!"

"Harry!" Nathaniel breathed somewhere behind him. "Harry, you'll lose your job!"

"Hermione's going to kill me!" Ron wailed. Harry was hauled up the steps, away from the pandemonium outside the courtroom and into the quiet hallway just before the atrium. He closed his eyes and dragged in several shuddering breaths, feeling his cheeks burn with shame. He'd lost control of himself. He'd lost control and defended someone who didn't even want his support in their trial. For the first time since the whole event, Harry felt his eyes sting with tears, and dear God all he needed now was to cry. "Mate," Ron said tentatively, touching Harry's shoulder. "Easy."

"Shit." Nathaniel muttered, his eyes focussed on the figure rounding the corner.

"Oh no-oh no-oh no." Ron added. Harry opened his eyes, watching the purple robes stride closer, and their owner frowning gravely.

"Potter." Kingsley said in his slow voice. "Follow." Harry didn't need to be told twice. He left his friends behind, knowing he'd crossed the line. He'd left everyone down.

~X~

"Harry just try it." Hermione sighed at a ridiculous hour that night, pushing the plate towards him.

"In a minute."

"If you don't snap out of it within the next few minutes I'm going to shove it down your throat." Ginny bit, folding her arms and glaring at Harry from across his kitchen table.

Ron cleared his throat. "I'll eat it if Harry's still..." Hermione quelled him with a furious glare.

"I don't feel like it at the minute Hermione." Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. Ginny made an explosive noise and picked up the spoon, breaking off a piece of the tart. Oh God she was really going to wasn't she-

"Open up." she ordered, holding the spoon in front of his lips. Harry snatched it and shoved it in his mouth reproachfully. It was wonderful of course, exactly how they'd been raving.

"_The best treacle tart we've ever tried!"_

and _"It's from that new café opposite Hermione's office."_

Harry nodded. "It's great." But he just wanted to curl up and die at the moment.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione squeaked, bringing her hands up to her face.

"Cut it out!" Ron ordered, rushing to her side. "Come on! Kingsley was fair about it wasn't he? He's giving Harry a good reference, despite everything. He's giving him pay for another month-"

"I don't think it's so much the job." Ginny interrupted sombrely.

"I'm sorry." Harry murmured, not sure who he was addressing, but almost certain it was everyone.

Hermione gave a great, sad sniff. "No it's okay Harry. I didn't think that job was right for you anyway."

"You did seem a bit bored." Ron added helpfully. Harry frowned, agreeing somewhat but struggling to think what job could possibly be right for him. Ginny sighed tersely, tucking her hair behind her ears and standing up.

"Ron, Hermione," she began, gathering all the empty plates and cutlery, leaving Harry's dejected slice of treacle tart behind. "Go home, you've got work tomorrow. Harry's going to be fine. He's going to think about what he wants to do and he's going to make a plan."

"A plan?" Hermione parroted, sounding intrigued. Ron grimaced.

"Yes." Ginny said firmly. Ron gave Harry a sympathetic nod, promising to come back tomorrow after work with some sort of sympathy food. Hermione gave him a watery smile, looking tired and frazzled. Ginny closed the kitchen door and Harry heard them all murmuring feverishly in his hallway, wondering what on earth their friend had gotten himself into. Eventually the front door banged and Ginny was back in the room, flicking the kettle on and humming absently. "It's Malfoy isn't it?" she said suddenly as she spooned coffee granules into a mug. The question sounded eerily familiar and Harry took in a ragged breath.

"It's a little bit of everything." Harry replied, his voice flat. "I'm not quite sure who to be angry with." Ginny snorted, gingerly sniffing a carton of milk from the fridge.

"Who are the options?"

"Well there's me, for losing control and getting myself fired." Ginny nodded, looking at him for a moment and gesturing for him to go on. "There's Edvard, who's fucking sick in the head; Then Draco, who's suddenly decided he can't fucking stand me."

"Watch your fucking language will you?" Ginny huffed, drawing a smile from Harry as she set his Gryffindor lion mug down before him. "Are you sure Draco hates you? Maybe he knew you'd freak out like you did and that's why he didn't want you there." Harry grimaced at the suggestion, lifting his drink to blow the steam away, relishing the hot, bitter smell.

"What if he lied to me, Ginny?" Harry said suddenly, his heart lurching. "What if it was all a lie and he didn't want me hearing the truth?" It was Ginny's turn to grimace this time, and she sipped her tea thoughtfully.

"I'm not going to say it isn't possible, Harry." she sighed. "But we'll find out tomorrow."

"What?"

"The Prophet's ecstatic about the whole thing." Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes. "They're running an article about the turn-out." _The Prophet_, Harry thought, _Draco's photograph article_. Well there's no way it got published. It was probably laying forgot somewhere in Draco's leather bound case. Harry tried not to feel sad about it – it was no use feeling sorry for someone who had quite possibly walked all over him.

_I'll never let anyone walk all over me again, I promise you._

"He left me a note the morning it happened." Harry sighed. Ginny looked up from her mug, intrigued. "Under my pillow." he added before she could ask. She left the room, leaving Harry alone to watch Charlie snoring, half in his basket and half out. The past few hours of complex human emotions had drained him of all Labrador energy.

"Oh Harry." Ginny chuckled lavishly, re-entering the room with the crumpled note. "He wrote you this and you keep it under your pillow?" Harry felt his cheeks burn.

"It doesn't mean anything now." he snapped.

"You want to know what I think?" she smiled, shaking her head at the note before handing it to Harry who closed his fingers around it protectively.

"Go on then."

"I think you've always been drawn to each other, and you shouldn't be worrying about _why_ it happened." Harry looked up at her, waiting for the rest. "It all went wrong because you're so different, and so young. You need to give yourself some time Harry. Take some time to concentrate on what you need before you rush into things with someone just as lost as you."

"I get you." Harry murmured, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

"Get some sleep, okay?" she smiled, taking the mugs away and rinsing them in the sink. "I'm going to bring you that article tomorrow and we'll read it together." Harry nodded, inwardly praising Ginny for knowing he'd need someone there to tell him what to do before his emotions spiralled out of control. He smiled, standing up and pulling her close.

"Thank you." he whispered.

"It's nothing Harry." she smiled, squeezing him back. "It'll all come right."

~X~

Harry slept soundly through the night despite his worries and he didn't doubt for one moment that Ginny's reassuring words were to thank. He awoke hot and prickly beneath his duvet, vaguely aware of a faint knocking. It reminded him of the Monday he went to Hogwarts, and his thoughts drifted to Draco; pale skin hot beneath his touch, cool hands on his face...Charlie yawned beneath the duvet and Harry rolled over to look at his dog, upside down having burrowed his way beneath the eiderdown. The knocking was louder now and Harry jolted into consciousness, remembering her promise.

"I'm coming!" he shouted, leaping from his bed and running towards the door, Charlie following gleefully.

"About time." Ginny sighed on the doorstep, the Prophet tucked under her arm. Harry noticed the sun was breaking through the overcast sky above them and he peered at it for a moment before slamming the door.  
"Well?" he breathed, running into the kitchen in his pants to try and gage Ginny's reaction.

"I'm not saying anything." she replied soberly, handing the paper to Harry and busying herself with making tea. Harry sat down at his table with a thud, hands shaking as he thumbed through the pages of the Prophet. There was an article about his sacking which he ignored, sections about Goblin disagreements and dodgy dealings in Diagon Alley until finally, the word **MALFOY **leapt at him.

**THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MALFOYS **– the title read. Harry resisted the urge to bite his nails and read on.

**DRACO MALFOY, 21, faced a trial yesterday in which he was charged with one account of SHAWW (Serious Harm to Another Witch or Wizard). The ex-Death Eater, having been in trouble just under a year ago for breaching the terms of his confinement to the British Isles pleaded Self Defence. HARRY POTTER, 20, who had been intending on speaking in Malfoy's defence, was dismissed by the accused himself. Upon hearing the news, it was reported that Mr. Potter attacked the defendant in a fit of rage and was then permanently dismissed from his position as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic. -**Harry felt his heart sink, if they were twisting his own actions like that then there was no saying how they'd portray Draco's.

**Malfoy was facing trial after stabbing Edvard Kovachev, 24, with a four and a half inch shard of glass during a disturbance at Malfoy's residence on the outskirts of London. Kovachev suffered internal injuries and almost died before Healers at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London stabilized his condition and healed the damage.**

**The victim's attorney accused Malfoy of 'unlawful and extreme violence that very nearly cost Mr. Kovachev his life'; he was then branded 'dangerous and unstable, much like his father'. Malfoy's father, LUCIUS MALFOY, is being cared for privately at St Mungo's after displaying unsound behaviour in Azkaban. Malfoy's mother, NARCISSA MALFOY, is still being held at the prison for counts of war crimes and Death Eater activity.**

**Speaking on his own behalf, Malfoy told the court he was 'acting in self defence and retaliating after years of abuse'. When asked to elaborate, Malfoy shocked the courtroom, accusing Kovachev to be 'a rapist, bully and very violent and psychotic individual'. At this point, Kovachev laughed, and Malfoy proceeded to show the courtroom photographs of bruises and lesions on his face, neck and torso from the night of the attack.**

**In defence, Kovachev attorney accused Malfoy of 'childish, attention seeking behaviour' continuing the statement to say: 'they had both shared a very physical, heated and sexual relationship and that on the night in question, Malfoy had invited Kovachev into his home and instigated sexual intercourse, before quite suddenly changing his mind and launching an attack'.**

**It was witnessed that Malfoy was visibly distressed at this statement and he continued to defend himself, confessing he had invited Kovachev into his residence, but 'for the sole purpose of discussing past complications in their relationship and confirming the fact they were no longer a couple'. He went on to explain: 'Kovachev had been infuriated by this and launched a long-familiar and violent attack in which he overturned furniture, smashed the glass table and repeatedly hit and scratched me before attempting to initiate unwanted sexual intercourse'. At one point, Malfoy admitted to trying to use his wand to defend himself, but Kovachev had apparently 'torn in from his hands and snapped it'.**

**Malfoy then raised the issue of Kovachev not having a wand due to past offences where he had 'taken part in unnecessary fights and practised Dark Magic'. This was confirmed by the court and with this information thrown into light, Kovachev was asked to relay his account of the night in question. At this point, Kovachev was heard shouting profanities at the court, repeatedly branding Malfoy 'a desperate liar'. Kovachev's attorney then questioned Malfoy on his speculative relationship with Harry Potter, accusing Malfoy of 'using Potter in plans against Kovachev, possibly planning this attack and not allowing Potter to speak in defence because of their covert affair'.**

**Malfoy retaliated, stating: 'Potter is not involved in this case. Whatever relationship I share with Harry Potter has nothing to do with the matter at hand. I did not want Potter to speak in my trial because I have had to withstand abuse from Kovachev for so long, it is high time I stood up alone and defended my provoked actions'. There were murmurings in the court that the judge silenced before Malfoy continued: 'Kovachev is a sexual deviant with an unstable mind. We shared a five year relationship, during which he was repeatedly violent and aggressive, guilty of causing me many physical injuries and on a few occasions, rape. I believe Kovachev's unfortunate disposition was brought on by his parents strained relationship, and when Kovachev was nineteen, his mother committed suicide after suffering abuse at the hands of her husband, Kovachev's father'.**

**At this point, Kovachev surprised the court by shouting graphic threats to Malfoy across the courtroom. When an Auror attempted to calm him, Kovachev struck him with surprising force and had to be detained on a count of assault.**

**After much confusion, the jury came to the unanimous decision that Malfoy was not guilty of SHAWW with intent, but SHAWW in self defence. It was decreed that Malfoy would face a two and a half month sentence in Azkaban, after which he could press charges against Kovachev for Initiating Sexual Intercourse with an Under-aged Witch or Wizard, Assault, Rape, Harassment and Attempted Rape.**

**Kovachev is currently being charged with Assaulting an Auror and is facing an inquiry into his mental health.**

"Fuck me." Harry breathed, his head spinning dizzily. He could not have asked for a better outcome! Draco had outed Edvard as the villain he was, cleared his own name and told the court that he had wavered Harry's offer of defence because he'd wanted to stand up for himself. He must have been grinning, because Ginny slid into the chair opposite, looking relieved and giggling.

"I spoke to Ron last night after the trial," she began. "You'll never guess which Auror got punched."

"Please." Harry whispered.

"Grimsby." Ginny smirked with a wink. Harry clapped his hands in delight - how quickly his fortunes had changed.


	17. Seventeen

**SEVENTEEN**

Harry took unemployment far better than he had ever expected to, even though he'd never really expected to be unemployed at all. He had little time to dwell on it however, as just about every friend he'd ever had made a suspicious reappearance into his life, making Harry feel guilty for not keeping in touch, and each bringing something into his life he'd been missing.

Ron called around after work almost every day, bringing with him sugared doughnuts and slices of hot pie from the market stalls around London. It had become something of a tradition for Harry to prepare for Ron's arrival every evening and wonder what he'd found for them to gorge on. If it wasn't for Harry's nightly jog around the park with Charlie, he was almost certain he'd have been twice his previous weight. Aside from keeping daily treats from affecting his waistline, Harry wasn't entirely sure why he bothered keeping fit, but he supposed old habits die hard, and Charlie needed the exercise just as much.

Every Sunday, he'd make his way to Hermione's for lunch, sometimes arriving early to help peel vegetable and listen to Hermione dropping subtle hints about the ever-present positions available in her own job: campaigning for fair treatment of magical creatures. She only managed to bring Harry fond memories SPEW and fourth year and dilapidated knitwear. After the meal Hermione would pull The Prophet from somewhere and point earnestly at circled job positions she thought might suit him, all of which Harry shied away from as politely as he could. It wasn't that he didn't want to work; he just didn't know what he should be doing. He'd leave Hermione's early as both she and Ron would began the ritual of yawning and grumbling about their early starts the next day. Harry envied them; he'd never been a workaholic, but he certainly wasn't a slacker.

Once or twice a week, Ginny would invite him out, taking him to all sorts of colourful places that she'd discovered with her Quidditch friends for food and drink, and it seemed she'd become quite the socialite. Harry would sneak sidelong glances at her whenever they were out, loving the blush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, knowing he could never put it there, he was too fucked up. When he voiced this to her over drinks however, he was not quite prepared for the reaction.

"Ow!" Harry yelped as she slapped him hard on the leg. "What was that for?"

"Fucked up?" she echoed, putting her cocktail down on the low table and turning to face him on the squashy sofa. "Firstly, watch your language! Secondly, you can't go around calling yourself fucked up! Self depreciation isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Oh you know what I mean." Harry huffed, shaking his head. They'd found themselves in a Moroccan-themed bar with a ceiling so low that even Harry felt like he had to stoop when he walked through it - and he'd never been very giant.

"Harry," Ginny sighed, folding her arms over her silky dress. "You are trying to find a job aren't you?" Harry frowned, the job subject was a favourite of his friends at the moment, and he could hardly blame them.

"I can't think of anything, Gin." Harry sighed. "Well, anything reasonable."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, a smile breaking her stern expression. "Oh go on, I could do with a laugh, I'm playing against the Brighton Bulls in two days and they think their something special." Harry gave her a sympathetic smile and took a breath, preparing himself for the ridicule.

"Well I've been thinking about what I'm good at." he began, Ginny nodding at him encouragingly. "So I ran over the obvious options: Quidditch, defeating Dark Wizards."

"Oh Harry pick Quidditch!" Ginny cried. "I'm sure there are plenty of teams out there that would love to have you!" Harry frowned. He'd never found the prospect of a career in Quidditch very appealing. To him, Quidditch had been a game, an outlet, part of his childhood and a direct link to magic. Playing for a team the way Ginny did was ruthless - you needed spirit, charisma and a ferocity Harry had never possessed. "Alright so not Quidditch." Ginny sighed, noticing his grimace.

"I couldn't really think of anything else apart from Hippogriffs-" Ginny had exploded with laughter directly into her cocktail, showering Harry with the pink, shimmering liquid that made strange celestial noises from the magic infused into it. "Right," Harry tutted, trying to sound stern as he took the cocktail glass from Ginny's hand. "No more of these." She had been getting rather loud and was currently slapping her knee, tears of mirth gathering in her eyes.

"Oh Merlin Harry," she breathed. "Open a Hippogriff sanctuary! Or a Hippogriff riding school-" She was gone again, making breathless sounds that drew a few curious glances in their direction. One particularly amused wizard of about their age wandered over, pulling up a chair on the other side of their little table.

"She's off her rocker isn't she?" The boy said in a soft voice, pushing the brown waves of his hair off his forehead. Harry wasn't sure how to respond to the stranger so he smiled, slapping Ginny's back as she choked on air. "Sorry," the boy laughed. "I'm Jeremy, a friend of Ginny's." he explained before reaching over the table, bringing scents of vanilla. He tapped Ginny's knee. "Gin!" She jumped, startled and looked up, red faced with smudged eyes to meet Jeremy's gaze.

"Jeremy!" she cried in delight.

"Have you been drinking again?" he asked her with a wink.

"Just a little." she replied. "Shall I get you one?"

"Go one then." he grinned, a dimple forming on one side of his face.

"This is Harry by the way," she sighed, pulling herself together as she rummaged for her purse under Harry's buttocks and stood up. It was surprising how natural their relationship was now they were no longer any sort of romantic item and Harry realised he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I know." Jeremy replied, casting Harry a glance with deep, brown eyes. "Sorry." he frowned as Ginny ruffled his hair and sauntered over to the bar. "Nice to meet you though." He offered his hand and Harry shook it, smiling warmly.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sort of infamous." he shrugged, immediately regretting the immodest words. Jeremy laughed heartily anyway, resting his hands on his knees.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the sofa. Harry glanced at it blankly, supposing there was room for three at a push.

"No, not at all." he replied. Jeremy stood up and sat next to him, assaulting Harry's nose with the warm, sweet smell of vanilla and filling Harry's vision with a dimpled smile. He pushed the chocolate waves off his forehead again ad winked, something he was apparently fond of doing.

"Budge up." Ginny ordered as she set three drinks on the table. Jeremy did, moving closer to Harry so their thighs were pressed together, Jeremy's hand glancing very briefly over Harry's knee. "Getting cosy are we?" she asked as they were all crushed somewhat on the sofa. She caught Harry's eyes and smirked suddenly. "Perhaps I'd better move over there and leave you to it." she added with a wink. _What the hell was with the winking?_

"I wouldn't protest," Jeremy smiled. "I was just admiring Harry's shirt." Was he?

"I bought him that." Ginny grinned as she moved to sit opposite them. Harry noticed Jeremy had decided to stay put, despite there being plenty of room on the sofa with Ginny now opposite them. "He's rubbish with clothes."

"Thanks." Harry said wryly, his mouth dry as Jeremy casually admired the hem, his fingers brushing Harry's skin.

"How's your love life Jeremy?" Ginny asked with deliberate emphasis, catching Harry's eye and raising an eyebrow. Harry felt slightly out of the loop and was beginning to wish Jeremy would stop admiring his clothes at such a close-range.

"Rubbish." he sighed, dropping Harry's shirt and leaning back in a stretch, actually daring to use the age-old trick of resting an arm behind Harry on the sofa. "No one since the Australian last month. He didn't even call."

_He_. Right. Harry hadn't just been imagining it then.

"Pity...that arse was to die for." Ginny sighed.

"You're telling _me_." Jeremy added with a soft snort. "What about you Harry?" he smiled, turning to face him. "I heard you were into men."

Harry prepared himself for a rather uncomfortable evening.

~X~

"I don't get you Harry." Ginny snapped as he Apparated her safely back to The Burrow later that night. She swung her legs over the creaky gate. "What on Earth was wrong with the boy?"

"Nothing!" Harry retorted, hopping over the wall and helping to hoist her over. "I just wasn't interested." The evening had gone exactly how Harry had foreseen, with Ginny getting louder and less discreet with each singing cocktail, letting slip that Harry had abs of steel, liked to grope arses when he kissed and he was very much gay and single. Jeremy smiled through it all, sighing dramatically at Ginny's outlandish remarks and winking at Harry an unnatural amount of times. It turned out he was a friend of Ginny's new boyfriend, Luca, and worked alongside him as a trainee healer. He used this as an excuse to snatch Harry's hand and examine the cut he had there from chopping vegetables at Hermione's. By the end of the night he'd peered at Harry's scar, asked to feel his apparently famed abs, gotten to feel his apparently famed abs because Harry wasn't sure how to politely refuse such an offer, slipped his number into Harry's back pocket and brushed a rough kiss on his cheek.

"I know what this is." Ginny growled, stopping halfway up the garden path and regarding Harry with a furious glare. Harry went back for her, fear swooping in his stomach at the thought of Mrs Weasley seeing her daughter this drunk. "It's Malfoy isn't it?"

"Who else?" Harry snapped, annoyed with her for expecting anything different.

"He's in Azkaban Harry! Just move on!"

"Don't tell me what to do." Harry bit back. "Go inside Ginny."

"Don't tell _me_ what to do!" she parroted, whacking Harry with her purse as he tried to nudge her up the path. "You're pining over someone who might not even feel the same way!" Harry was furious with her, and he took a steadying breath, glancing up at the soft lights in The Burrow's windows.

"I can do what I want." Harry retorted. "Now go home."

"Right." Ginny hissed, her eyes shimmering furiously. She kicked off her heels and dropped her purse to the floor. "_Right_."

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded, watching her roll up the sleeves of her cardigan. "Me and you. Right now." she barked. "I've had enough."  
"Are you asking me to fight with you?" Harry snorted, very nearly amused.

"I'm _telling_ you to fight with me, Harry." she snapped. "Come here." Harry shook his head, his eyebrows racing up his forehead in disbelief.

"Absolutely not." Harry said firmly. Ginny made an explosive noise of rage and stamped her bare foot on the paving.

"You bastard! I'm -"

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!" came a chilling and all too familiar roar. Harry whipped around to see Molly Weasley marching down the garden path in a flowery dressing gown. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" Harry glanced at Ginny who had folded her arms, her mouth curled with injustice.

"I was about to fight with Harry."

Harry spoke up quickly. "I'm actually not fighting with anyone-"

"You are a lady!" Molly screeched, silencing Harry immediately. "You do not come home drunk and instigate fights in the family's front garden!" Harry heard the door bang and Ron appeared, his hair sticking up at odd angles as he loped down the path to investigate.

"I can't take it anymore, mum!" Ginny shouted, tears spilling from her eyes and running down her cheeks. "Harry's being _totally_unreasonable!" Ron looked at him accusingly, his eyes narrowed. It seemed even when it was clear Harry was not romantically involved with Ginny, Ron would always be there to protect his sister.

"That is no reason for you to be behaving like a warlock's daughter!" Molly snapped, snatching Ginny's shoes and purse from the floor. Harry sighed as he heard the door bang and the final remaining Weasley's joined the gathering.

"Ginny?" Arthur said softly to his daughter, padding over in his dressing gown and enclosing Ginny in a woolly hug.

"I haven't done anything, I swear." Harry hissed to Ron and George who were both looking confused in their pyjamas.

"You're pining over that idiot!" Ginny cried, muffled by her father's comforting embrace. Harry felt his stomach flutter uncomfortably. He wasn't sure who knew what at this stage, but he'd been having nightmares about situations exactly like the one he found himself in now.

"We've all read the papers, Ginny." Molly bristled, examining Ginny's shoes as though they were very interesting indeed. "I think we'll agree its all hearsay."

"It isn't." Harry said before he could help himself. He couldn't stand the thought of the only people he knew as his family not knowing the truth. If they wanted to berate him for it then they could, as long as they knew. "We were friends. Then we were a little bit more. I don't know what we are now." Ron shifted uncomfortably behind him and George let out an enlightened chuckle, as though it all made perfect sense. Harry dared to look at Molly, who was sharing a glance with Arthur, both looking momentarily hurt and worried.

"You're...gay, dear?" Molly whispered. Harry hadn't really thought about it like that. He'd thought of it more like... well, _Malfoysexual._When he considered his previous gay experience with the colourful haired boy - however disastrous it had turned out - it pointed to the conclusion that maybe he was.

"I suppose so." Harry replied, his voice sounding strange in the dark.

"Well," Molly breathed, glancing at her husband again. "Well, it makes sense doesn't it?" Harry wasn't sure if he should be offended, so he scrubbed the back of his neck awkwardly stealing a glance at Ron, who was watching his mother warily; and George who gave Harry a wink, apparently thoroughly entertained.

Harry had seen enough winks tonight to last him a lifetime.

~X~

All parties – or in his case – all Weasley's involved seemed to take the new surprisingly well, and Mrs. Weasley made several rounds of tea and toast while Ginny was ordered to take a rejuvenating shower. Mr. Weasley didn't seem at all put out by the news, he merely gave Harry a clap on the shoulder and a reassuring nod before going back to bed. Mrs. Weasley fussed around Harry for a while longer, getting more and more frantic with the help of George's carefully placed remarks.

"Did you ever think he might have been more of a _wand_ man, mum?" and "Give him the pink mug." Harry had to laugh as Mrs. Weasley snapped at her son for being insensitive and Ron groaned with distress.

As she washed up the plates and mugs, Harry sidled up to her on the pretence of drying the dishes. "I'm going to be okay ." he said quietly while George quizzed an unresponsive Ron on his own love-life. "I'm looking after myself."

"Of course you are, dear." she replied, her eyes soft and watery, her brow creasing as she glanced at his reassuring smile. "Well, you know where I am," she sighed. "If you need me."

"I always will." Harry said, wondering if he'd meant to say it out loud. He was crushed into her bosom before he could regret it however and George gave them a round of applause.

"Stop it you." Harry scolded playfully as Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes and hurried back up the rickety steps to bed.

"It went better than I expected anyway." Ron breathed, dragging a hand through his fluffed up hair. "And I wasn't expecting it today."

"Watch out." George murmured, nodding at the bottom of the staircase where Ginny was standing in a pink dressing gown. He stood up, waggling his eyebrows. "I'm off to bed. Night Harry."

"Night George."

"Oi, Ronnie." George called, half way up the stairs. "Leave them to it! Harry likes boys now, remember?" Harry cringed and glanced at Ron who was frowning, looking between him and Ginny as though he couldn't quite trust them.

"Ron," Harry sighed.

"Okay, okay." Ron muttered, marching up the stairs. "See you Sunday Harry." Harry watched him go, waiting for Ginny to pull up a chair opposite him at the table.

"How much tea did she make?" Ginny asked the slightest hint of shame on her face.

"Far too much." Harry replied, and Ginny made a small noise of amusement.

"They all think I'm mourning the loss of you." she said quickly, looking down at the pale blue polish on her nails. "And I'm not."

"Then why did you try and make me fight you?" he asked, heart warming as Ginny shook her head and laughed.

"I really like Luca, Harry." she sighed. "He doesn't pander me all the time, he lets me be my own person, but he's always there for me, whenever I need him."

"So what was that all about?"

"I just want you to be happy, Harry! Even if we aren't a couple and never will be, there's always going to be that part of that cares about you!"

"Ginny!" Harry scolded softly, moving to sit by her and enclose her in his arms.

"I'm worried about you – everyone is. We all want to make sure you don't get hurt."

"I won't." Harry said firmly, knowing it was a lie, he was bound to do things like this again at some point in his life, and there was a good chance that Malfoy could break his heart. Oh great, so his heart was involved in this now?

"Just be careful, will you?" she sighed, rubbing her weary eyes. "I know it's all anyone ever says to you, Harry, but God - it's all I can say isn't it?"

~X~

Quite suddenly, a month had passed since he'd been fired and Harry's pay stopped. Kingsley reminded him he was more than welcome to collect his reference at any time he needed - and it would be a promising one. Only a few days after, Harry awoke to find himself twenty-one years of age. He made himself tea with four sugars to celebrate, avoiding coffee as his own could never compare to Draco's. Charlie gave his foot a Happy Birthday lick on the way to the door-mat where he was rather taken aback to find an absurd amount of post. He took it all into his living room where he took his time to gander over each one. Many were from his school friends, some were from old Ministry colleagues, there was a card with a topless women on it from Nathaniel, not really fitting giving recent revelations. A few cards were signed from strangers who apparently saw fit to address him as The Birthday One or The Boy Who Is Twenty-One Today.

Harry's heart sank at the absence of one well wisher, and he scolded himself fiercely for having expected anything at all. Once he'd arranged his cards on the mantle piece, Harry dragged himself into the bathroom. Ron had invited him over The Burrow for a Birthday tea and he wanted to get on with cleaning his flat first. Apparently, unemployment created a lot of excess mess.

Later on, when the sun had sunk lower in the sky and the clouds that had been circling for most of the day made their way steadily west, Harry Apparated to the burrow, feeling cosy and hoping he had cake. Even just a little one. He rapped on the old door and sighed, watching the chickens scratch around his feet. The door was wrenched open and Ginny tugged him roughly into the house.

"Get in here you." she sighed, ruffling his hair. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks." Harry grinned as she straightened his t-shirt affectionately. She grabbed his hand and led him into the sitting room, Harry running his hand through his hair and preparing himself for a bone crushing hug from Mrs. Weasley and several slaps on the shoulders from George and Ron. Merlin, he was starving -

"SURPRISE!" yelled a cacophony of voices and Harry actually almost burst into tears at the sight of far too many people, all cramped in The Burrow's tiny sitting room. Fortunately, Mrs Weasley was on hand to envelope him in the expected bone-crushing hug, giving Harry a moment to compose himself and get over the initial shock. No sooner had she released him, wishing him happy birthday, Hermione threw her arms around his neck.

"Happy Birthday Harry!" she smiled, making room for Ron to slap him on the back, grinning. Harry accepted several more slaps from Arthur, George, Bill and a rather prim handshake from Percy who wished him many happy returns. Before Harry could thank any of them, Nathaniel had jogged over, miming breasts with his hands and asking if Harry liked his card. Harry nodded, shaking Layla's hand as she giggled at Nathaniel's obscene banter.

"Hohoho!" Seamus cried accusingly, crushing Harry with a hug and giving him a knowing smile. "Happy Birthday Harry, you saucy boy!"

"Happy Birthday!" Andrew added, rolling his eyes and shaking Harry's hand, smoothly taking a glass of Firewhiskey off Seamus. "I don't think so, Shay. You were practically breathing fire last time." Harry glanced at Ginny who was smiling at him, standing next to a boy with a ridiculous grin and golden streaks in his hair. _Luca_, Harry thought, planning to interrogate him later.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Dean grinned, handing Harry a bottle of Butterbeer. Harry accepted it with a thank you, thanking Neville a moment later when he stumbled over to wish Harry well, tripping over the many feet crowded in the room.

"Happy Birthday." Luna said serenely from somewhere behind him, a camera hung around her neck that reminded him painfully of Draco. "You've got a surprise coming." she added, nodding back at the party. "Look." Harry turned around, his face breaking into a grin as he caught sight of Mrs Weasley approaching him with an enormous cake, iced golden with **'HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY'** in red.

"For the golden boy!" George quipped, raising his glass. Harry laughed as the entire room began a chorus of _Happy Birthday, _Harry not even bothering to conceal his delight. Once he'd blown out his candles - all twenty-one of them, the front door opened and a tiny brown-haired figure bolted into the room, bringing the scent of outdoor air and leaping into Harry's outstretched arms.

"My favourite person!" Harry cried warmly, lifting Teddy into the air and thanking Andromeda and Ted for their birthday wishes as they entered the room, accepting drinks and admiring the cake.

"Happy happy Birthday!" Teddy yelled, catching sight of the cake and gasping, his strange hair transforming into lurid gold locks.

"Shall I cut the cake?" Harry asked.

There was a general cheer of agreement around the room and Teddy flung out his arms, very nearly knocking Harry's glasses from his face. "Yes!"

~X~

Luca, it turned out, posed no threat to Ginny at all. Both Ron and Harry spent much of the night trying to catch him out, but ended up agreeing he was charming, funny and everything Ginny needed. Ginny stuck her tongue out at them triumphantly, and when Mrs Weasley was busy setting out buffet food, she gave them the finger.

Nothing, not even Neville tripping backwards onto his foot with surprising force as he was jostled in the rush to the buffet table, could dampen Harry's spirits, and he spent the night mingling, something he hadn't even known he was capable of.

"Are you enjoying, Harry?" Arthur asked, sidling up to Harry with a sausage roll.

"Yes." Harry grinned. "It's fantastic. I've never had a surprise party before." the words were childish but he didn't care, the gesture had moved him and he was having the time of his life. There was a small present giving ceremony which touched Harry even further – he hadn't been expecting gifts!

"Hey Harry," Neville said later on as Luna took pictures of the guests. "How are you?"

"Great!" Harry grinned, watching the jiving competition taking place in the middle of the room. So far, George and Teddy had been disqualified for trying to trip up the other competitors and Ron and Hermione were battling it out against Seamus and Andrew. "What about you?" he retorted, turning back to Neville.

"Oh I'm good. I've been training with Professor Sprout. She's retiring and she says she definitely wants me to replace her in September! Can you believe it?"

"Neville, that's brilliant! You're going to be a fantastic teacher!" Harry replied, knowing Neville excelled at the subject and would be an excellent example to students.

"Thanks, Harry. I'm quite excited about the whole thing. It got me thinking about Dumbledore's Army, in fifth year, remember?"

"Of course." Harry nodded, turning around at a sudden burst of laughter. Apparently Seamus had spun a little too fiercely and almost landed in Dean's lap. As one of the judges, he disqualified him immediately, leaving Ron and Hermione victorious. Ron was roaring with pride, trying to get a giggling Hermione to join him. Neville continued, and Harry turned back to him with a smile.

"You were a really good teacher, and I was hoping I'd be like you when it came down to it-" Luna held her camera up and Neville threw his arm around Harry, leaving his sentence unfinished as they both grinned. The camera flashed and Luna moved on to take a victory shot of Ron and Hermione. "Anyway," Neville continued, looking back at Harry with excitement glittering in his eyes. "They're looking for a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry."

"Neville, I-"

"No one wants to do it since the war," Neville continued, cheeks flushing. "They've had a few semi-permanent Aurors in and at times there hasn't been anyone at all, and they've just had to copy out of their text books." Harry felt something stir within him: memories of his fifth year when they'd been told to put their wands away. Harry remembered the need he'd felt to practice magic, especially with Voldemort back. That was then though, when it had been essential. Surely they'd find a real teacher, someone like Lupin who had a passion for the subject and wanted the students to be able to defend themselves...

Merlin, that was him.

"You're thinking about it aren't you?" Neville whispered, awestruck. Harry laughed, wondering if he'd really been so anti-_findingajob_.

"I think I am, Neville." Harry grinned.

~X~

Harry arrived home late, laden with gifts and birthday cake after Teddy ordered Harry to take some home for Charlie who was apparently 'crying away and left out'. Harry gave Charlie a very small piece of cake and a lot of fuss: lonely or not, a ridiculous amount of sugar would do him no good. He flicked his record player on, trying not to let the songs remind him of Draco as he put away his many new books and trinkets, humming absently to himself.

"No more cake." Harry said softly as Charlie pawed at his leg. He got up and made his way to the kitchen, pausing when something caught his eye on the hallway floor. It was an envelope, muddied with a boot print that Harry must have made on his arrival home. He picked it up and peered at the front, instantly recognising Draco's neat scrawl and tearing it open, finding only a newspaper cutting and little note within.

_Get your act together Birthday boy. They call you 'The Lost Potter' in The Prophet. Mindless bastards._

_Squirrel._

Harry read it through several times, his heart fluttering at the signature before he finally picked up the little cutting. It was a photograph of a cottage with ivy crawling over the thatched roof. The garden was overgrown with scruffy hedgerows and the blue-painted door was chipped. **Photograph courtesy of. **- It said in very small letters below it.

**No. 3 Glen Close -Godric's Hollow -155,000 Galleons.**

**Two bedroomed bungalow cottage. Very cosy with large garden. Repairs needed.**

For a very long time, Harry stared at the picture, torn between several theories. Draco was presenting him with a picture he thought Harry would appreciate and maybe stick on his wall with the rest of his silly collection. Or Draco was trying to show him how ruthless The Prophet was, still using his photographs when the editor had apparently snubbed him. "No." Harry told himself with a light laugh. Draco Malfoy – who'd caught Harry's attention with a picture of his birthplace and peered at the ceramic cottages on his mantle piece without Harry's permission – was quite simply telling him to stop dreaming and buy a house.

~X~

Over the next few weeks, Harry found little time to dwell over cryptic messages from Draco. He was determined to spend his time reassembling his life and catching up with friends he'd forgotten he had. He wrote to Professor McGonagall and asked her about the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. She'd replied the very same day, asking him why he hadn't applied sooner, she'd been waiting apparently. He'd have to come in for an official interview of course, bringing a reference with him. Harry thought of Kingsley and hoped he really would give him something good – not that he really deserved it.

On a Wednesday afternoon when the sun had decided to make a reappearance, Harry met Dean for lunch, asking him all sorts of questions about his line of work and letting him know what a good job he'd done in helping to rebuild Hogwarts. Dean was gracefully modest, leaving Harry with a shower of compliments before running off to meet the girl with long red hair his mother had covertly told all of his friends about.

Upon hearing about Harry's possible new career, an enthusiastic Hermione organised a shopping trip with a less than enthusiastic Ron to find Harry some smart-casual clothes and cardigans. Apparently she was trying to give him an authoritative but approachable look. Harry indulged her, letting her pick out colour after colour while he discussed Quidditch with Ron, planning to escape for drinks with Nathaniel later in the day. On a dull Saturday night, just as Harry was contemplating a solitary drinking siesta, he received a floo-call from Seamus, already slightly tipsy and wanting to discuss Harry's sex-life.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." Andrew called in the background over Seamus' devious cackles.

"Don't worry about it." Harry grinned, and he accepted Seamus offer to hit the town for a couple of drinks.

By the end of August, Harry had gone for dinner with Ginny and Luca, all of them chattering excitably about Quidditch together. Harry grinned inwardly at the way Luca smiled at Ginny, letting her kick Harry under the table and try the spiciest curry on the menu, simply shaking his head in amusement when tears streamed down her face from the heat. He had visited Luna in her attic-room apartment in a seaside town to admire her sting of art across the walls, surprising himself by opening up about Draco's talent with a camera and his strange ability to capture colour and character. She'd smiled and nodded, tilting her head with inscrutable interest and inquiring when he was supposed to be out of Azkaban. It was safe to say Harry had missed the company of all his old friends, and his new relationship with each of them gave him the companionship he'd been missing, the mutual sense of needing and being needed and the unspoken promise to watch one another's backs.

Harry had been to his interview, taking with him a reference he'd collected from Kingsley, magically sealed as he asked Harry how life was. Harry had only good things to say in response, and thanked Kingsley graciously for his well wishes. The interview itself had made Harry feel as though he was very small again. McGonagall had glared at him over her glasses, burning holes into his skin."Potter," she'd interrupted halfway through his list of personal strengths. "Why don't you tell me about why you wanted this job instead of reeling off lists no doubt given to you by Miss. Granger?" Harry had laughed, looking down at the clammy hands in his lap before taking a deep breath, thinking about Lupin, his fifth year and Draco's pale, ethereal face, covered in bruises and cuts.


	18. Eighteen

**EIGHTEEN**

"Sarah, you've left your wand behind again." Harry called to the dizzy blond who was halfway out of the door, yacking excitably about Sirens and Grindylows to her friend. She stopped suddenly, bringing her hand up to her mouth in surprise.

"Oops." she cried with a giggle, running back in and scrabbling for it on the desk. "Thanks sir!" Harry smiled, locking rolls of parchment into his drawer and getting ready to meet Neville. It was barely halfway through the term and the girl had managed to leave her wand behind more times than she'd remembered it. Harry sighed, checking his watch and loosening his tie. It was all still new to him: being called sir and professor-

"Professor?" Harry jumped, looking up to see one of the quieter boys in the class hovering near his desk.

"What is it, Lee?" Harry smiled, absently tucking his quill into his jeans. McGonagall hadn't recommend jeans when she gave him the job, but no one was any the wiser if he had his robes on over the top. Lee blushed, staring at the floor and biting his lip, looking every inch the fourteen year-old.

"I wanted to er – thank you."

"Thank me?" Harry repeated, slightly taken aback.

" 'Mgay you see, and people don't give me a hard time about it since you became our teacher." came the mumbled response accompanied by an almighty blush.

"Oh." Harry replied, wondering why everyone was so very sure he was gay. He'd never really released an official statement of anything. Maybe, he thought grouchily, he didn't have to. "I don't know what to say."

"Well say something." he chuckled breathlessly, meeting Harry's gaze with a nervous sparkle in his eyes. "I've been psyching myself up all lesson to say that. I couldn't hear a word you was saying I was so worried. Grindens and silows or whatever."

"Grindylows and Sirens." Harry corrected him, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "And thank you Lee, I'm very pleased I helped." _Somewhat unwittingly_, his conscience added.

"Well at least I'll be listening next time." Lee sighed, grinning with relief. "Thank you Professor!"

Harry smiled, watching him stamp noisily from the room with his satchel swung over his shoulder. Momentarily, he forgot about where he was supposed to be.

~X~

Neville tapped his watch when Harry approached him in The Entrance Hall. "I thought I was bad at time-keeping!"

"Sorry Neville," Harry grinned. "I got caught up with being a Professor. I'll pay for lunch." Neville laughed. A long running joke of theirs was to continually marvel at their new titles as Professors. It was childish in a sense, but they had agreed that they'd grow bad-tempered and sombre over time. As they walked out of the castle, Harry cast his mind back to the Sorting Ceremony on their first day of work. Professor McGonagall had them both stand as she introduced them and Harry had been horrified, expecting anything from laughter to boos at his presence. He'd stood stiffly and drowned in a wave of applause, barely able to conceal his nervous grin. Neville had received a similar welcome, along with a chorus of laughter when he sat back down heavily and very nearly missed his chair.

"What's all this?" Neville sighed as a swarm of students gathered halfway down the hill, chattering excitably to someone in the middle of their aggregation.

"My mother and I read the article about you!" a sixth year girl cried, appearing to shake someone's hand. "We cried."

"Good gracious." said a familiar voice. "I suppose I should thank you." Harry was vaguely aware that he'd stopped, and Neville was looking at him with a sappy grin.

"Shouldn't you all be at lunch?" Neville called loudly, and the students turned to regard him, drawing in gasps at the sight of Harry. They all stumbled to the side in unison, giving Harry a perfect view of the visitor. Harry could only hear the roar of blood rushing through his ears and his vision blurred, preventing him from appreciating the features of the blond blur only a few metres away.

"It's better than the telly!" a young Wizard squawked, immediately shushed by his peers.

"Last one back to the castle gets twenty points from their house!" Neville called sharply, raising a chorus of complaints and sending the students veering back up the hill. "I've just remembered their serving roast potatoes in The Great Hall today." Neville murmured, trying his hand at a bit of tact and making his way back to the castle. Harry moved forward, his heart hammering painfully in his chest.

"Hello stranger." Draco murmured, shielding his eyes from the autumn sun to look at Harry, who had the perfect view of all things Malfoy. His green rucksack was back on his shoulders, drawing a smile from somewhere deep in Harry's gut. In a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans, he looked _good_. He wasn't cut, bruised or injured and when Harry took another step closer, casting Draco in shade, he was stirred by the look in his eyes: composed, steady and filled with a familiar softness.

"Aren't you cold?" Harry demanded, moments away from pulling off his own robes and tugging them over Draco's head.

"Only a little bit." Draco shrugged, his hair falling all over his forehead. "I haven't been outside for some time so I'm relishing it."

"Don't be so dramatic." Harry snorted, watching Draco fold his arms, his fading Dark Mark visible, unconcealed by charms. Harry wondered if his earring was on show.

"Me?" Draco scoffed. "Says the wizard who caused a small riot outside my trial. Oh, and congratulations on getting yourself fired by the way." Harry scowled, recalling Draco wasn't all blond hair and doe eyes.

"Have you quite finished?" he snapped.

"Possibly." he retorted frostily, elegantly lifting one shoulder. Harry waited, sensing something was keeping Draco's arms folded and his eyes trained on Harry's Converses. He cleared his throat. "Your students," he began. "They told me you're publicly out of the closet now."

"I never really publicised it, but apparently I am." Harry replied, frowning. With a sudden jolt of pleasure, he realised what was keeping Malfoy cold: Jeremy, one of Seamus' friends and countless others who'd all made a move on Harry over the past few months. Unknown to Draco, his lips were the last Harry had kissed. He hadn't yearned for anyone's skin but the pale scarred expanse of Malfoy, shivering beneath his fingertips. For months, Harry had dreamt of his face, close to his own in the darkness. He had awoken every morning aching with longing, his heart twisted painfully. "I waited for you." Harry said quickly, the words spiking more aggressively than he'd intended. "Everyone thought I was wasting my time, but I waited anyway." he closed his eyes, opening them to try and gage Draco's reaction, but his expression was exasperatingly indecipherable. Harry went on, feeling as though there wasn't much point in holding back, not after everything he'd put himself through. "I spent a week with you and I just couldn't get you out of my head. No one understood."

"I visited my father." Draco said suddenly, his voice slightly higher than normal.

"Why are you changing the subject?" Harry snapped.

"I asked him if he'd been keeping well without me."Draco continued. "_'I have.' -_he replied." Harry felt his cheeks redden and he clenched his jaw. "Why had he been keeping well, Potter?"

"I don't know, Draco -"

"I asked him!" Draco snapped. "I asked him why he'd been keeping well." His chest rose and fell heavily and he tilted his head to look at Harry in disbelief. "_'Mr. Potter has been bringing me marbles every week Draco, in all the beautiful colours you used to make.'_" Drraco laughed suddenly, filling the cold air with an unnerving sound. "Tell me my father isn't creating false memories, Potter!"

"Okay, so I did!" Harry barked. "Was it wrong?" It was only a small detail, something he'd done every week without fail. He hadn't been sure what had possessed him to do it, he couldn't stand Lucius Malfoy. Yet every Sunday when he left Ron and Hermione to grumble about work the next morning, Harry would go to St Mungo's, bringing marbles for someone with whom he shared a mutual dislike. Lucius had been cautious at first, sometimes unhinged. On times he'd demand to know where his son was, other days he would sit, staring very blankly with a marble in his hands, studying it intently. Sometimes Harry talked, discussing Draco's pictures stuck to the wall or trying to find out which of Lucius' marbles were his favourite. Most of the time it was silent exchange, Harry allowing himself to drown in thoughts of Draco while his father buzzed excitably around the new additions to his collection.

"Why?" Draco snapped suddenly, shaking his head. "Why do that?"

"I couldn't tell you if I wanted to." Harry shrugged and Draco looked fit to explode.

"I don't understand it! I don't understand you, Potter! You do things for other people without thinking, without expecting anything in return, not even recognition!"

"But it was for you!" Harry hissed. "I did it for you. Explain that." Draco shook his head, still regarding Harry with a bewildered expression, his knuckles white on the straps of his rucksack. Harry felt the blood burn hot in his veins and he turned on his heel, trying to escape the feelings that seemed to be swimming in never-ending circles. "I can't do this Draco." he muttered as he walked away. He'd been torturing himself for months over Draco – seeing him again hadn't solved anything, it was only threatening to jeopardise what happiness he'd only just found.

"Potter!" Draco called voice rough with emotion. The sound was so familiar; it cut through Harry like a knife. "Harry -please!" Harry stopped, turning to look at Draco running his knuckles over the Dark Mark, almost cringing as he seemed to gather his words. "Please don't walk away." he hissed. Harry quelled the thundering in his heart, curling his hands into fists. "I found you," came the gentle, unexpected tone, something like the murmurings in his sleep. "I found you in The Ministry..." He seemed unable to fill in the gaps and took another breath, glancing around as though making sure no one was there to hear him. "You held me in a way no one has ever done before." Harry took two steps closer, wanting to be closer to the words. "He hurt me...very badly-" Without hesitance, Harry held Draco's face, feeling cold hands close around his wrists. A breathless second passed, heavy like the moment before a fight, and Draco pressed his lips against Harry's, searching desperately. Harry had almost forgotten the sensation, and his eyelids flickered as Draco pushed kiss after pleading kiss against his lips.

"He made you stronger." Harry breathed, running a hand through the soft, blond hair, his fingertips quivering with the forgotten sensation. Draco laughed breathlessly, his face creasing in relief, one hand tightly enclosing a handful of Harry's robes.

"Fuck, I've actually missed you." he murmured before Harry crushed his mouth with a searing kiss, all the memories he'd been dwelling over coming together in one burning embrace. Draco's arms wound tightly around his middle, almost squeezing the air from his lungs. After several minutes of sliding his tongue against Draco's and filling the crisp autumn air with breathless gasps between each kiss, Harry pulled away gently.

"As much as I'd love to stand here and continue giving my students a good show," Harry murmured, glancing with Draco up at the castle where several students had obviously decided their lunch was nothing compared to spying on a scandalous snog between their new professor and their new hero: Draco Malfoy. Harry's gaze drifted to the side of Draco's head as he looked up at the castle, his finger brushing against the symbols on his neck and the gold ring through his ear. With a shiver, Draco turned to regard him, his expression carefully shrewd but covertly tender.

"What's stopping you?"

"Aside from my self respect," Harry chuckled, leaning closer. "I've got to see a man about a house."


	19. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

_Squeak, Squeak-squeak, Squeaaaak._

Harry opened his eyes onto musky smelling sheets, blinking away the tangled images of kilts and butter-cream icing that he'd been dreaming of.

_Squeak-Squeak, SQUEAAAAAAAAAAAK._

"That is enough!" a sharp voice emanated from what sounded like the kitchen. "Give me that ridiculous thing immediately."

_Squeak._

Harry rolled onto his back and threw an arm out, though he already knew he was alone if Draco was bickering with a strange noise in the kitchen. His hand hit the rough wood of the floor and he cursed drowsily, knowing he'd have to put the bed up today if he didn't want to keep doing that every morning."Don't look at me like that, you great lump." the voice in the kitchen scolded, and there was a small scuffle in which many frantic squeaks could be heard, followed by an indignant bark. The back door was opened and the rush of cold air rattled the bedroom door. "Go outside like a normal animal. Shoo." The squeaking object was thrown and Harry heard the unmistakable sound of an oversized Labrador skittering on kitchen tiles and bounding out of the house.

"Draco!" Harry called in a rough voice as the back door was slammed shut. There came no reply, and Harry heard bitter grumblings. "Draco!" The record player was turned on and Harry's voice was lost in the harmony of The Beatle's voices.

"_He's a real nowhere man/  
sitting in his nowhere land/  
making all his nowhere plans for nobody._"

Harry smiled absently to himself: it had taken Draco long enough to learn how to work the record player by himself, especially considering that Steven had apparently been trying to teach him for years. Both he and Cherry had visited when Harry had been in the process of moving out of his old flat, his things boxed up all over in precarious spots. Harry had been alone and very much surprised when Cherry had thrown her arms around him on the doorstep, thanking him for making her friend happy and helping him find his strength once more. Steven hadn't spoken, but had grinned at Harry's record collection and shaken his hand by way of approval. Cherry had brought Harry beautifully iced cupcakes in fantastical colours as a house warming gift only last week, stopping to pinch Draco's cheeks and ruffle his hair, telling him he was going to get fat and comfortable at twenty-one.

The door was thrown open, bringing a blast of early winter air and scents of coffee and cedar spiced blonds. "Are you going to lounge there all day?" Draco demanded in his crisp tone, already in his jeans and a green t shirt that looked suspiciously like Harry's. Harry arched his back and stretched, making a lazy noise of protest as Draco set the mug and a copy of the Quibbler down on the floor next to the mattress and sat astride Harry. He certainly wasn't as light as he had once been, and Harry had a feeling it was to do with all the house warming food people had been bringing Harry.

"I was just getting up." Harry grumbled, opening his eyes in surprise when a cold finger and thumb pinched his nose. He tutted. "Stop mucking around will you?"

"Maybe if you finally put the bed up and you didn't have to sleep on the floor, you'd stop being such a miserable git in the mornings." Draco hissed, pulling at tufts of Harry's hair. Harry swatted him away and feigned a scowl, though his hand was tracing subtle inquiries on Draco's thigh. "You're not getting anything." Draco drawled as Harry lifted his hips and pressed as much of his morning arousal as he could into the warmth sat on top of him. "Not after presenting that dog of yours with the infernal squeaking cauldron."

"Will you never forgive me?" Harry groaned dramatically, throwing his head back on the pillow.

"Never." came the whispered response as Draco lowered himself to lay next to him, spreading himself over the mattress and Harry. A soft kiss was pressed into Harry's neck as he stared out of the bay widow across the room. When he had first arrived, he'd barely been able to see out with all the brambles growing in the back garden beyond it, but with Neville offering to help, they had cleared the tangled jungle in one weekend. Charlie had been ecstatic, as he was now able to bound around the scrubby lawn without catching burs in his fur or tripping over tangled weeds. "Want to see what's in the Quibbler today?"

"_It isn't!_" Harry cried in a scandalised voice, turning his head to look at Draco. "It's been published?" Draco nodded, holding back his own smile. He handed Harry the magazine and ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture while Harry scrabbled for his glasses.

When Harry had introduced Luna and Draco once more, much to Draco's horror, they had surprisingly hit it off, comparing camera lenses and developing techniques while Harry listened, relatively clueless. It had obviously been Luna Harry turned to with the idea of finally publishing Draco's work, something that Draco had been valiantly hiding from Harry until he'd put it into print. Luna had agreed, promising it would feature as soon as they'd finished their special on the yeti. With it, she'd also offered Draco a job, and it had taken a whole night for Harry to convince him he deserved it.

**How The Muggle Half Live In Britain. - **The title read when Harry reached the centre page. Harry sniggered. It had been thought up by a smiley young boy in the Quibbler's head office with quills stowed behind each ear and in every pocket. Draco had made it a point not to laugh at any of his awful puns but to reel them off to Harry in disgust. Draco tutted into Harry's shoulder and Harry drew his eyes to the grid of images.

Immediately he was assailed with memories - both related to his week with Draco and stretching back into his past. Teddy's sandcastle sat on the beach, the feather fluttering slightly in the breeze as the distant waves rolled foamy blue-green in the distance. Charlie looked up at the camera and licked his lips; a line of Harry's mugs sat in a row, the chipped one, the Gryffindor lion, the one with a map of Australia. Draco had photographed their cupcakes; a city street twinkling at night. Glenda, The Hammer and Tongs barmaid pulled a pint behind the bar;a train pulled into Paddington station and a group of girls in shorts and colourful string vests blew kisses to the camera. An elderly couple sat on a park bench, sharing sandwiches and a flask of coffee with their sun hats flopping into their eyes. In the centre was a picture of windswept Draco at Stonehenge, the very same one he had presented to Harry which was currently framed on Harry's bedroom wall. Beneath it read the caption: **Pictures courtesy of Draco Malfoy: Avid Explorer**. Every picture screamed Muggle and each was alive with vibrant character in a brilliant hue that Draco always managed to capture.

"When did you take all of these?" Harry laughed, hardly ever remembering Draco's camera being out at all.

"I did a bit of sneaking around." he replied softly.

"They're brilliant." Harry breathed. "I'm framing it all." Draco sighed at him, feigning indifference and rolling his eyes as Harry turned to press a kiss against his cheek. "I'm so proud of you." he whispered, pulling Draco down onto the sheets with him, locking eyes with the silvery blue.

"Don't be soft." Draco snorted, running his hand over the stubble on Harry's cheek. Harry ignored him and pushed a tender kiss against his lips.

"When are you moving in?" he demanded.

"When I'm bored of outstaying my welcome." Draco quipped.

A distant _squeak-squeak_ could be heard outside and Draco sighed into Harry's neck. They'd get up soon and Harry would drink the coffee, surely lukewarm by now. Then he would make breakfast and Draco would shout at him for giving Charlie toast. Harry would shout back because he had a stupid Muggle patch on his arm that provided nicotine to stop him smoking, and the lack of cigarettes was driving him up the wall. "Your hands don't know what to do without one." Hermione had offered helpfully while in the process of overseeing Ron assemble Harry's new bookshelf. Draco had caught his eye, and they'd later developed other ways to keep Harry's hands busy, which now meant breakfast and sex came hand in hand.

Until then, Harry traced circles beneath what was definitely _his_ t shirt onto Draco's back, pressing his face into blond hair that was sharp with the fragrance he'd come to associate him with. Draco moved his lips over Harry's neck, clearly giving up the quest to get him out of bed and - by the way his hand was moving rapidly lower beneath the sheets - toying with the idea of having sex _before_breakfast today.

There was a sudden rustle as Draco lifted his head, regarding Harry with a look of total bewilderment. "Do you know something Potter?" he began, his cheeks pink and his hair sticking up on one side. "I think I might just love you."

Harry laughed at the revelation, the joy spreading through his body in rippling waves. He pulled Draco close to him, kissing his lips and breathing in his smell, his satire, the crumbled wall he'd kept up for so long. Just a week – or roughly thereabouts. A week with a camera and a rucksack and a boy he'd known for years and the side of him that had swallowed Harry whole and enveloped him in confusion and desire. "I was beginning to worry you might." he breathed as a pale hand closed tightly around his wrist. Draco let out a wheeze of not-quite laughter. "I love you too," Harry smirked, squinting in the fractured light of the window that was washing over them both and pressing a kiss against the pink cheek. "I love you, Squirrel."

**Finite Incantatem**

* * *

I'm considering a sequel. I'm also considering getting my life back for a while.

I would really appreciate a review on this one. It can be as constructive as you like.

Thank you for reading.

_MissSnakeyBoots_


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